


Creeper

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Story of Three Boys [29]
Category: Glee
Genre: Brothership, Gen, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-04
Updated: 2011-11-04
Packaged: 2017-10-25 16:36:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And now, let's meet our celebrity judges!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teaser

**Author's Note:**

> The alternate title for this episode was "Ass Man."
> 
> Also, we planned these set lists in July or August. Please understand that. Glee just... helped out.

When did Burt get so old?

Seriously, he doesn’t remember getting old, so it must have snuck up on him somewhere. When Burt looks in the mirror, he sees an old man, so much older than the man he saw just that morning. It’s like when he lost Maggie; one morning, there’s a happy young man with his life ahead of him staring out of the mirror, the next morning, it’s some gaunt, ancient face he doesn’t recognize.

It’s not that dramatic this time and it’s not over anything so horrible, thank god, but when Burt looks at himself, all he can see is old and...replaceable. Kurt doesn’t need him any more and--this is the part that Burt really wrestles with--maybe Kurt hasn’t needed him for years. Maybe all of this about protecting Kurt, about looking out for Kurt? Maybe that’s all been a smoke screen. Maybe, Burt realizes, that what he’s really been hanging onto isn’t Burt’s need to protect Kurt, but Burt’s need to have Kurt around to protect _him_ , and how wrong is that?

After Maggie died, Burt tried to be a strong enough man to be two parents for Kurt, but of course, sometimes things slip. Burt was never good at that emotional stuff; Kurt became good enough at it for both of them. It seemed easy, natural, to let Kurt step into that role. It took such a weight off of Burt’s shoulders--one less thing to worry about, right?--and made it easier to focus on all the things he _was_ good at as a parent. Fixing stuff, patching knees, teaching Kurt to ride a bike and drive a car and replace a radiator, modeling all the ways you can be a man, a _better_ man, all without trying to force Kurt to be a different sort of man than the kind it was pretty obvious to Burt that Kurt was going to be.

And he’d done an okay job of it, hadn’t he? Look at Kurt. He’s definitely a man, a good man, a strong man. Maybe not the same kind of man as Burt, but Burt never wanted or expected him to be. And maybe...maybe that’s it, really? Kurt’s a man. He doesn’t need Burt to take care of him. There’s no more skinned knees to patch. Kurt knows all the thing Burt has to teach him. Kurt’s done with needing anything from Burt but love and support, but Burt’s not done learning things from Kurt.

Now Burt looks in the mirror at an old man and wonders what he’s going to do without his boy around to teach _him_ how to be a better man.

 

“Make sure those cameras are working,” Beiste repeats. “We need to edit this footage into a game film by Monday. Black-out period starts Wednesday and I have three boys that deserve these games to be considered.”

“Uh-huh,” Lauren Zizes nods, and Beiste recognizes the tone of preoccupation. She nods and heads back down to the field, surveying her players from a distance. Four seniors, playing in what she hopes is their fourth-to-last game, and three of them well-positioned to ink a letter on National Signing Day. Chang probably could have gotten a scholarship, too, maybe to a smaller school, but she respects a man who knows what he does and doesn’t want.

Even though she’s only coached them for two seasons, she feels like she can claim them. _Her_ seniors. They’ll be two-time state champions, she can feel it in her bones, and she hears good things from Wisconsin, Georgia Tech, and LSU. Nothing official, of course, but whispers still go along the grapevine.

During a time out called by the other team, Beiste looks up into stands almost absently, then smiles when she catches sight of Puckerman. It’s a smile tinged with sadness, because she wishes he could be down on the field still, but she can also recognize that he looks healthy again. In retrospect, it’s easy to see that he had lost weight, that there were circles under his eyes that didn’t go away. He’s regained the weight and the circles are gone, and she’s sure part of that is due to the boy next to Puckerman. The boy Puckerman’s pressed against, more like, as they laugh at something one of the other glee club kids has said.

Beiste shakes her head and returns her attention to the game. Football’s important, but she likes to think she’s teaching other lessons, too, and Puckerman seems to have learned most of those, with or without football.

 

Trey never fails to be impressed by Blaine's strength. Despite the troubling confrontation, despite the threats, Blaine holds it together until after all the groups have performed, the trophies have been awarded, and each group has retired to its green room to either celebrate or mourn.

He can see how wan Blaine's face looks, how drawn his expression, so Trey gently leads his friend to an adjacent hallway.

"Do you need to talk about it?" Trey offers, softly.

Blaine practically falls into Trey's arms, crumbling into small, undignified sobs. Trey, unused to such shows of emotion as a general rule, and certainly not from Blaine, holds him awkwardly, occasionally patting him on the back of his blazer while murmuring "there, there." It seems like the appropriate way to handle the unexpected event.

After a time, Blaine's sobs fade into hitching sniffles.

"Are you? Are you quite alright?" Trey asks, trying to find a way to disentangle himself from Blaine that won't hurt Blaine's feelings or expand the circle of snot and tears already smeared across the front of Trey's blazer. Blaine clings to him desperately.

"I thought he would understand," Blaine breathes, burying his face in Trey's blazer, doubtlessly ingraining more fluids into the wool. Trey hopes his mother won't ask too many questions about the need for an extra trip to the dry cleaners. "He always said that it was easier to communicate feelings through song. I thought that he of all people would understand what I was trying to say. Instead...instead he just sent his _goon squad_!" Blaine continues, his voice cracking over the last two words.

"Well, it's like we've said, Blaine," Trey says, feeling like he's on firmer footing. "Puck has confused him. Brainwashed him. That's the only explanation."

"I'm not so sure any more," Blaine sniffs. "Even Finn seemed so sure..."

"Didn't you explain to me that Kurt's step brother was rather," Trey struggles to find a way to put it politely. "Well, dim?"

Blaine nods, but then he shrugs. "He made it clear that this needs to stop and...and I think he's right," Blaine sighs. "I can't keep doing this. It's exhausting. Kurt, whatever I think of his choice in partners, has moved on."

"He, he does seem to have," Trey agrees, tentatively, feeling sad for his friend, but somewhat cheered that Blaine seems to be emerging from his state of dejection.

"I guess that means I need to move on as well," Blaine says, composing his face back into the mask of compassionate sincerity that Trey knows so well. "Let's get back in there. The Warblers need to be congratulated on their tremendous performance today."

Trey isn’t sure Blaine’s heart is in his words, but it’s not Trey’s job to second-guess Blaine, so he follows him back into the green room.


	2. Slide Rule (a 3x13 bonus fic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casey & Dave; Distractions and tools for the Luddite

On Monday morning, Dave’s cursing himself for building snowmen when he probably should have been doing another problem set or going over the notes from the day before Thanksgiving, since his final that afternoon isn’t going to take itself. As he winds through the halls between classes, though, he keeps an eye out for Casey, since it seemed like Case wasn’t enjoying being snowed in as much as Dave was.

It’s not until Dave’s headed towards the cafeteria, determined to eat a somewhat leisurely meal before his final, that he spots him. “Hey, Case!”

“Oh, hi, David!” Casey turns on spot, he face blossoming from kind of pale and morose looking into a bright grin in a split second. “How was the rest of your weekend in the snow?”  
As Casey talks, Dave notices a flash of red, and then realizes that he’s got a split lip.

“Oh, pretty good,” Dave answers, smiling slightly. “You fall on the ice? That looks painful.”

“Huh?” Casey responds like he doesn’t know what Dave’s talking about, but something about it seems disingenuous. His cheeks get a little bit pinker, and he shrugs. “I’m okay.”

“Your–” Dave starts to qualify his statement, then stops for some reason that he can’t quite put his finger on. “You headed to lunch?” he asks instead.

Casey nods. “Yeah. You?” He shifts in place a little like he wants to say or ask something, but doesn’t say anything more.

“Yeah, I need a good meal. Or something to distract me,” he adds ruefully.

“I can distract you!” Casey volunteers, and then those pink spots are back on his cheeks. “I mean, we could talk while we eat, if you wanted to. If you want to eat with me today.”

“Sure,” Dave nods agreeably. “As long as we don’t talk about math. Math final this afternoon.” He grins.

“I remember,” Casey says, his face serious. “We can talk about, um, other things. Comic books, video games, oh! We can talk about politics. That’s distracting!”

“Very!” They head into the cafeteria and Dave grabs the main entree without really looking at it. “You brought your lunch?”

Casey nods. “Just a PB&J. Wasn’t super hungry today.”

“You not like to eat at school?” Dave asks, slightly teasing.

Casey gives Dave a weak smile. “I like PB&J okay. It’s portable.”

“It is.” Dave nods and leads them to an empty table, sitting down. “So. Politics. I think I’m going to be tired of all the candidates before March even.”

“I’m glad I don’t have to vote for a while!”

“I grew up on my grandfather’s stories about how important it was. Not to mention my great-great-grandmother was some kind of a big deal about suffrage or something.” Dave shakes his head. “It seems like politics was a lot nicer back then, or maybe they just don’t tell us about the awful stuff.”

“Well, nobody had blogs or Twitter,” Casey suggests. “I think probably politicians on Twitter is going to be the downfall of America.”

Dave laughs. “I think you’re probably right!”

Casey wrinkles his nose up as he laughs, then flinches a little as the cut on his lip stretches out from his grin. He quickly takes a bite of his sandwich.

Dave digs into his own meal, wondering what it actually is, but not caring enough to find out. “You should do your next history paper on that.”

“Oh, I should!” Casey puts his sandwich down and digs into his backpack, pulling out a notepad. He scribbles a few notes into it furiously before shoving it back into his bag. He looks up at Dave almost sheepishly, hair falling across his eyes. “So I don’t forget it later,” he explains.

“Not a bad idea,” Dave nods. “I forget ideas like that all the time.”

“I forget all kinds of stuff all the time!”

“I’ve heard it said that’s why we have planners and Blackberries and all that.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have a Blackberry or anything like that, so, you know, notebooks,” Casey shrugs.

“Yep.” Dave scrapes the last of the food off his try and then drains his pop. “I still use one of those five dollar spiral-bound calendar planners.”

“We’re Luddites!” Casey squeaks. “That’s so funny!”

Dave grins, holding back a laugh. “It really is. At least we use calculators and not those slide-things.”

“I have no idea how to use a slide-rule,” Casey says. “They scare me. Anyway, I think it’s good to write stuff down. There’s something about using your hands, you know? Instead of just thumbs.” There’s a beat and then Casey’s cheeks blaze hot pink. “I really didn’t mean that like it sounded,” he mutters.

Dave bites down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, because he’s pretty sure Case would be even more mortified if Dave _did_ laugh. “Slide-rule!” he says after a minutes. “Thanks. You think if I figured out how to use one, my professor would let me take on into the exam?”

Casey, still a little flushed, shakes his head. “Probably not. Anyway, what are you going to do? Write the answers on the back side of it? It’s the only way I can think of that it would help!”

“Well, there’s at least one question we’re not allowed to use our calculators for.” Dave makes a face. “I guess I understand why, but seriously, it’s not like we’re ever going to have to do emergency statistics without a calculator around.”

“You’re going to do great on that exam, though,” Casey says, with a little smile. “You’re good at this stuff, David. Like _really_ good at this. Don’t psych yourself out.”

“Nah, psych’s next quarter.” Dave grins. “I should start driving, though. See you tomorrow at lunch? I think I’m going to finish that Sandman finally.”

“I’ll bring the next one, if you want it. If you’re still liking them okay, anyway. You should at least read _Brief Lives_ even if you decide you don’t like them too much,” Casey says. “I think you’ll like Destruction. He kind of a little bit reminds me of you.” For some reason, Casey turns a little pink again. “So, um. You go own that exam and let me know how it goes? If you get a chance.”

“Sure will.” Dave stands to clear his tray. “And yeah, I definitely want the next one.” He heads towards the door with a smile. “Later, Case.”


	3. Episode 3x13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, let's meet our celebrity judges!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [playlist for this episode](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL1F47EA465E0FFC2F)

Kurt slides the paper inside the blue file folder and picks up both the blue and red folders, holding them to his chest. His dad and Carole are both downstairs in the living room; Finn has left the house. He takes a deep breath; this has to be done, and as much as he’s not going to enjoy the conversation, there are things he and his dad both can’t ignore.

His footsteps seem to echo on the stairs as he heads downstairs, and at the last minute, Kurt decides to pour another cup of coffee for himself before heading into the living room. It gives him a moment more to collect his thoughts, and when he enters the living room, he sits down on the edge of the sofa, opposite Carole, his dad in his usual recliner. Kurt sets down his folders and cradles his coffee in both hands. “Dad, Carole,” he begins, and he’s pleased that his voice doesn’t shake.

“Is everything ok, son?” Burt asks, furrowing his brow. “You look like you’re worried about something. Is everything doing alright at school?”

“At school?” Kurt echoes, confused. “Yes, of course, everything’s fine,” he dismisses that line of thought. “No, I need to talk to you about something. Two things. That are sort of related.” Kurt takes a sip of coffee and mentally shakes his head at himself. Really, could he sound more ridiculous.

“Uh huh,” Burt answers, dubious. “You sure everything fine? Nothing’s wrong with you and Puckerman, is there?”

“No, Dad, nothing’s wrong.” _Yet_ , his mind supplies, because everything could go pear-shaped quickly. “It’s about traveling.”

Burt frowns. “Traveling? Traveling where?”

“You’re doing some traveling?” Carole asks, looking equally confused.

“Yes. I’d like to,” Kurt says, and this time he feels like maybe he does sound calmer. “During winter break, I’d like to–to go to Chicago for a few days.”

“I don’t know, son,” Burt sighs. “I mean, that’s a busy time for the shop and we don’t really have the money for a family trip right now.”

“I didn’t mean as a family trip,” Kurt says quietly. “I have the money for it, actually.”

“You can’t just run off to Chicago by yourself, Kurt,” Burt says, “that’s--” His face freezes, understanding starting to dawn. “Uh huh. Why don’t you finish explaining about this trip?”

“We’d just like–a break.” Kurt sighs and sets down his coffee. “There’s Second City and the winter festival at Navy Pier and. It would be nice to, to let down our guard a little.”

“Kurt,” Burt says. “You two are just kids. You can’t, it’s not safe for you to--”

“Burt, honey,” Carole says softly. “Remember what we talked about before?”

Burt glowers at Carole, but stops talking, slumping back in his seat. He gestures at Kurt to continue.

“It’s about a four hour drive,” Kurt says, “and most things are within walking distance of the hotels in downtown Chicago. We’ll take a cab to Second City, of course, since it’ll be dark and getting rather late.”

“Kurt,” Burt sighs. “I don’t like this. It feels like you were sneaking around behind my back planning this trip, and now you’re springing it on me.”

“I didn’t think you needed to look over my shoulder while I used the internet,” Kurt says, his voice soft despite the words.

“Couldn’t you have brought it up when you first had the idea?” Burt asks. “Give me a little time to get used to it?”

Kurt sighs. “At first we were just talking about going to see Second City at some point. I don’t even know at what point it morphed into something more. I know you can understand that.”

“Understanding it doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Burt says, sulking a little. “Look, Kurt, I know you can’t wait to move to New York, but sometimes I feel like...”

“Like what?” Kurt asks as the silence grows.

“Like you’re looking for any chance you can get to get away from us,” Burt mutters. “Or, _me_ , I guess.”

“Dad, that’s unfair,” Kurt protests. “You know I love you. You _should_ know that, anyway.”

“I know you love me, but maybe you don’t understand how it feels, sometimes,” Burt sighs. “I mean, how could you? You don’t have any kids yet. You can’t know what it’s like.”

“No,” Kurt agrees, speaking slowly. “I wouldn’t. I’m just doing my best here, Dad, the same as you.”

“I know living here has been tough on you. Don’t you think I know that?” Burt asks, almost pleadingly. “It’s just, it isn’t just a town you’re leaving behind, Kurt. It’s people. I love Carole and I love Finn, but you’re my _son_. My only blood. When you talk about going away, about getting away from everything here, I mean, I know what you’re trying to say, but it just feels like another reminder that I couldn’t make it a good enough place here for you.” Burt sighs deeply. “Also, I don’t wanna think too much about you and Puck in a hotel.”

“I never expected you to change the world for me, Dad. Not even the world of Lima.”

“Honey,” Carole addresses Kurt, “I think that sometimes your dad has trouble with–forgive me, Burt–letting go. Especially since it was just the two of you for so long. Seeing you so happy, it’s bittersweet.”

Kurt nods, chewing on his bottom lip, but doesn’t respond verbally. Burt looks uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. “So,” Kurt says after a moment. “This is the right time to bring up auditions, right?” He smiles shakily.

Burt exhales noisily. “Good a time as any. This, at least, we knew about,” he sighs. “When, where, and how long. May as well lay it all out there.”

“The first weekend in March. Three different days,” Kurt says quickly.

“Let me guess. You don’t want _that_ to be a family trip, either?”

“I somehow doubt you can take three to five days away from the shop, Dad,” Kurt points out, willing himself not to blush.

“I could arrange something if that was what you wanted,” Burt says, bluntly. “But that’s not what you want.”

“No,” Kurt concedes, eyes to the side rather than looking directly at Burt.

“Didn’t figure. Write down the dates somewhere and we’ll figure out air fare.”

“I, um. Can check on Expedia and Orbitz and Priceline. A lot of times the deals are better if you combine airfare and the hotel.”

“Then just let me know how much. You can put it in the AmEx,” Burt says, a little tersely.

“Um.” Kurt looks down at his hands and twists them a little, trying to figure out how to make sure they’re actually on the same page. He can’t tell.

“Was there something else, Kurt?” Carole asks, and Kurt shoots her a look that’s half-thankful and half-dismayed before nodding.

“What else?” Burt says, looking dejected, like he’s expecting to hear about another, lengthier trip.

“Um. My auditions are the same weekend as Puck’s.”

Burt levels a look at Kurt. “Really. I’m very surprised to hear that,” he says, in a tone bordering on sarcasm. “Does he need me to cover his plane ticket?” Burt asks, and that, at least, doesn’t sound sarcastic.

Kurt shakes his head. “No. He’s been planning ahead since the summer. It’s not like Rina can really spare any.”

Burt nods. “Well, let me know. I know things are tight for them, and however I feel about anything else, the kid deserves his chance at school.”

“All right,” Kurt agrees. “So... Chicago?”

“Fine. Chicago.” Burt grumbles. “I get the hotel information and you call and check in every morning and before bed.”

Kurt nods. “Of course. Of course.”

“And don’t let Puckerman buy too much Bears crap, ok?” Burt adds, cracking a small smile. “He’s insufferable enough as it is.”

 

“Well?” Puck can’t help but open the conversation when he walks outside after his shift’s over.

“It’s a go,” Kurt confirms, grinning.

“Awesome,” Puck matches his grin. “Everything went okay?”

Kurt shrugs a little. “Dad kept talking about how I was leaving and I think the gist of it, really, was that he takes my wanting to leave Lima to mean I can’t wait to leave him, but.” Kurt purses his lips momentarily. “At any rate, he said Chicago was fine and I have the go-ahead to reserve our flights and hotel for New York. So.”

Puck takes his hand and squeezes it. “You okay?”

“It’s been a long weekend,” Kurt says with a sigh, and Puck nods. After Schue’s call, everyone spent most of the day at the Hudmel house, and once the roads were clear and everyone headed to their houses, Puck and Kurt found themselves voluntold to go to the supermarket and replenish the food that had been consumed via the two snacks and one meal that Carole hadn’t planned on feeding the teenaged horde. That wouldn’t have been horrible, except Finn was voluntold, too, meaning that the current moment was actually the first time they’d been alone in days.

“It has,” Puck agrees. “Way too long for it only be Sunday afternoon.”

“Your mom and Hannah out?”

“They’d better be,” Puck says humorlessly.

“Thank god.” Kurt parks and they hurry inside, carefully avoiding the piles of snow left by the plows. “I need you.”

“Yeah?” Puck half-smirks as he holds the door to the stairway. Kurt catches his hand as he passes by, twining their fingers together.

“Yes. I spent the time on Friday that I wasn’t getting pissed at Quinn trying to figure out how to sneak you into my room without anyone noticing. Needless to say, I didn’t come up with a good plan for that.”

“What else did she do?”

“In an unintentionally perceptive move of hers, I took your place as the focus of her snark and wrath once it was time for bed. Except, of course, she had to focus on inane things like my pillow.”

“Your pillow?” Puck shakes his head. “What crawled up her ass?”

“Funny you should ask,” Kurt laughs as they walk into the apartment and then Puck’s room. “I told her to take the stick out of her ass. Apparently some of the other cheerleaders were talking about the pregnant cheerleader a few years ago.”

Puck rolls his eyes. “Let me guess. It’s so hard to be her?”

“She tries so hard to put ‘it’ behind her,” Kurt confirms before pulling Puck into his arms. “It wasn’t a pleasant conversation. Mercedes has told me twice in the last week that I have been hanging out with ‘straight boys’ too much.”

“Straight boys, huh?” Puck laughs and kisses Kurt firmly. “Where’d you find the time to hang out with straight boys?”

“I think Mercedes would be appalled at the lack of distinction between straight boys and gay boys. Except when it comes to certain activities.”

“Probably.” Puck slides his hands under Kurt’s sweater and the t-shirt underneath it, pushing the fabric up. “We’re all obsessed with getting our significant other naked.”

“That is true,” Kurt concedes, his hands at the front of Puck’s shirt. “And keeping you that way.”

“Keeping me that way?” Puck moves his arms to let his shirt slip off, and Kurt pulls off his sweater and t-shirt. “This sounds intriguing.”

“We’re going to Chicago in less than a month,” Kurt says, a little giddily. “We’ll have to try it.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a plan,” Puck agrees, pulling Kurt back to him and then kissing him deeply, plunging his tongue into Kurt’s mouth as Kurt slowly opens it wider. Kurt’s hands run over his back and Puck echoes the motion, his fingers skimming over Kurt’s skin on his side and shoulders. Slowly, Kurt’s hands drift to the front of Puck’s pants, unfastening them and pushing them off before returning to the waistband of Puck’s underwear, sliding them down Puck’s legs, fingers lingering on Puck’s ass.

Kurt doesn’t break their kiss but removes the rest of his own clothing before grasping Puck’s erection and pumping it slowly. Puck sighs against Kurt, not resisting when Kurt moves them to the bed and then urges Puck onto his stomach. Kurt covers Puck’s body with his own for a brief moment before moving, and then Kurt’s hands are on him, and Kurt’s tongue licks a stripe from the base of his balls up to the small of his back.

“Ohh, fuck,” Puck shudders under Kurt, Kurt’s tongue returning to circle Puck’s entrance repeatedly, the pace slow but the pressure steady. “Kurt,” he pleads, not even sure what he’s pleading for.

“Mmm,” Kurt hums against Puck’s skin, then his tongue darts back out, sliding inside Puck just a bit at first, then deeper, and Puck moves against the bed, trying to increase the friction on his cock and take Kurt’s tongue deeper inside him. One of Kurt’s hands leaves, and then Puck hears the sound of skin on skin, and he realizes Kurt’s jacking himself off while his tongue is deep inside Puck.

“God please fuck, K,” Puck’s aware he’s babbling, making no sense, but Kurt’s tongue feels _so good_ and the sound of Kurt’s hand on his own cock is unbelievably sexy. Puck tries to picture what they must look like, spread out on the bed with Kurt bent over him, and he drives his hips down into the mattress harder, hands twisting in his blankets.

Kurt shifts his position then, speeding up a little and moving his tongue just a little deeper into Puck, hot and wet, and Puck explodes, yelling out Kurt’s name and then repeating it, softer, like a litany, as Kurt brings himself over the edge, spilling onto Puck’s ass and back before lying down beside Puck spent.

“You’re going to have to make me leave that hotel room,” Puck grumbles. “Second City, Schmecond City.”

Kurt’s answering laugh is the low rumble that Puck can’t remember ever hearing except when they’re alone. “Why do you think I’ll have the willpower that you won’t?”

“Good point,” Puck concedes. He cracks his eyes open to look at Kurt and smile. “I’m a mess, blue eyes.”

“A beautiful mess,” Kurt argues, glancing him over with a mock-critical eye. “God, we’re going to need, I don’t know. So many sheets.”

Puck laughs. “Sheets aren’t that expensive, at least.”

“True.” Kurt runs a finger through the fluid cooling on Puck’s back and then brings it up to Puck’s mouth. Puck takes Kurt’s finger into his mouth, sucking it clean. “Let’s shower, baby.”

Five minutes into the shower, Puck can’t resist dropping to his knees and taking Kurt into his mouth. Kurt leans against the wall after a moment, and Puck relishes the feel and weight of Kurt in his mouth, sliding his hand around the base of Kurt’s cock as he twists his tongue and hollows his cheeks. Puck can’t resist a smug grin when it doesn’t take long for Kurt to empty himself straight into Puck’s mouth, and when he stands back up, Kurt does his best to kiss it off his face.

They manage to get dressed and appear presentable before Rina and Hannah return with dinner, and Puck tries not to resent the rehearsal that they’re having at Mike’s. Even though he’d rather spend the evening in his bedroom with Kurt. It may in fact be Puck’s fault that they’re last ones to arrive at Mike’s, judging by the cars already there, or might be Kurt’s fault. Puck figures they can share the blame. Finn won’t kill _both_ of them if they’re ten minutes late, right?

Mike’s mother lets them in and they head down the stairs to Mike’s basement. “Finally here?” Finn asks. He looks impatient has has the fidgety movements that usually precede pacing. Puck and Kurt apparently arrived just in time to prevent that.

Puck shrugs negligently. “We got held up.”

“Mmhmm,” Finn says, looking doubtful. “Anyway, you’re here, so let’s just go ahead and start running through. I think we can leave off with the costumes, but I do think we need to keep practicing in the shoes.”

Kurt nods and puts down the smaller box he carried in, apparently anticipating this request. When he bends over, his sweater pulls to the side a little, and Puck has to turn slightly to hide his smirk at the small dark spot. No one’s going to notice, especially since it disappears again when he straightens.

“Do you want us to open the windows?” Rachel asks. “Like you mentioned last week?”

“Let’s do one regular run-through to get warmed up a little, and then we’ll open the windows,” Finn says, decisively. “Kurt, you got an extra layer you can pull on?”

“No,” Kurt glares flatly at Finn. “I didn’t realize this was the torture Kurt evening.”

“Well, it was my turn last time,” Finn answers. “And the time before that. Gotta be your turn at some point, and this seems like a good time.”

“Thanks,” Kurt says, rolling his eyes. He turns and looks at Puck. “Gimme,” he insists, gesturing to Puck’s coat, which he grabbed at the last minute as they were leaving.

“Okay,” Puck acquiesces, slipping it off and handing over. Kurt pulls it on and it’s not horribly big on him, despite the difference in how broad they each are.

“All right, Finn, do your worst,” Kurt says, nodding sharply at him.

Finn leads them through one run-through and then he and Mike go open the basement windows. The cold starts seeping in immediately, and within a few minutes the room is cold enough for their breath to fog the air.

“Your mom’s gonna love this, Mike,” Finn grins.

“I’ll tell her it’s an old Asian secret,” Mike shrugs. “That should do the trick.”

“I think Finn made it up,” Kurt grumbles. To be fair, Puck’s not convinced that Finn didn’t, either; Rachel, Tina, and Mercedes are all pressed _very_ close to their boyfriends, claiming they are ‘just so cold.’ Convenient.

“Ok, let’s do this,” Finn says, stoically trying to keep his teeth from chattering. The singing definitely isn’t as good as usually and the choreography on ‘Willing and Wonderful’ suffers noticeably from shivering, but they’re warmed up enough by the end of ‘Seasons of Love’ that the transition to ‘I Gotta Feeling’ is pretty smooth. Still, Finn’s already broken off from the group and is closing the nearest window as they finish up the set.

“I feel better prepared, don’t you?” he says, sounding as upbeat as humanly possible given the temperature. “One more run-through, this time with the windows closed, huh?”

“Not yet,” Kurt glares from where he’s huddled on the floor under Puck’s coat, and Puck has to glare at Finn, too, because the whole thing? Ridiculous. “Let me warm up first,” Kurt finishes.

“Lizard,” Puck teases, smiling.

 

On the one hand, rehearsal is important; on the other hand, Schue’s leading the Monday morning rehearsal; on the other other hand, Puck has a final in two hours and he’d sort of like to get a good grade on it.

Consequently, when Puck walks into the choir room, he goes over to Mike first. “So on chapter seven–”

“Part eight?” Mike finishes. “Yeah, let’s take a look at it, I don’t know.” Puck can hear Tina grabbing Kurt to ask a question about their final, and then Puck tunes out the rest of the noise until he slowly realizes that the room has fallen silent over the course of the ten or so minutes since he entered. He and Mike look up to see that the other eight, plus Schue, are staring at the four of them studying.

“Do you have something more important than rehearsal, again?” Schue asks, seemingly bemused.

“We have a final in less than two hours,” Mike answers rationally. “Sectionals is still six days away, and we got an extra week to rehearse already.”

“You know, nobody likes rehearsal more than me,” Finn says, and there’s a collective, quiet groan, “but I agree with Mike. That’s more important right now than rehearsals. Let ‘em alone, I think.”

“Thanks, dude,” Puck offers with a nod, then turns back to the problem he and Mike are working on.

Puck isn’t sure how Schue reacts, but after awhile, he registers that they’re singing Christmas carols instead, and ten minutes before the bell, the four of them come to an unspoken understanding and head for the door.

 

Puck is decently sure that he does well on his stats final, and it’s only 2:30 when he walks out to the Nav, Kurt already waiting. “Hey, since we have a little extra time, can we go by one of the dance places Mike suggested?”

“Sure.” Kurt shrugs. “Where is it?”

“Just on Bellefontaine.” Puck sighs and burrows against the seat. “You working this afternoon?”

“For a few hours, yeah.” Kurt flips down the mirror and stares at himself for a moment before starting the engine. “I would say I can’t believe Finn’s making us practice tomorrow morning, but that’s actually not true. It’s very believable.”

“Sadly,” Puck agrees.

The dance studio is, well, interesting. There are a lot of little girls in leotards running around and stretching, and the skinny woman behind the desk looks at Puck and Kurt like they are most interesting thing she’s seen in months. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, uh, I wanted to ask about dance classes for my little sister.”

“How old is she?”

“Eight. Third grade.”

“She’s old enough for our combination class or our hip hop class. Which one do you think she’d be more interested in?”

“Uh.” Puck shrugs helplessly and looks at Kurt.

“When does the hip hop class meet?” Kurt asks smoothly.

“That depends on the level. Has your sister had any previous classes?”

Puck shakes his head. “No.”

“Then she’d be in our Basic I class.” The woman licks her thumb and then pulls a sheet of paper off a tall stack, setting it in front of Puck on the counter between them. She points with one finger to a line of text. “There’s a class on Monday evenings at 7 pm, and one on Thursdays at 3:30 pm.”

Puck frowns a little. Mondays are family dinner night, but they are usually done by 7, and if he’s not around, his mom could still get her there. There’s no way the Thursday class would work. “Okay, how does payment work?”

“Well, there’s a mandatory registration fee that you pay right away, and then you can either pay up front or setup a monthly draft from your checking account or credit card.”

“All right.” Puck shrugs and looks at Kurt. “What do you think?”

“It seems like a good time, right? And I think she would prefer the hip hop.”

“Yeah, me too.” Puck nods and then turns back to the lady at the desk. “Yeah, okay, let’s do it.” It takes the better part of fifteen minutes to fill out the necessary paperwork, pay the registration free, and set up for the monthly payments to come out of his account. They’re about to finally leave when Kurt stops in the doorway.

“What does she need to wear?”

“Baggy clothing and dance sneakers,” is the prompt reply. “We sell the dance sneakers here.”

“Do you know her size?” Kurt asks Puck.

“Yeah, she’s in a one.”

“Do you have her size?”

“Sure, we have several options.” She hurries to stand and show them to Kurt, who selects one of the pairs after careful deliberation and then pays for it.

“Just make sure and tell me which night you give her the lessons, so these come after it.”

Puck grins. “Yeah, that would be confusing otherwise.” He nods at the woman. “Thanks for all the help.”

“Thank you! We’ll see Hannah in January!”

Puck spends the rest of the afternoon studying for his musical styles final, figuring that any other assignments will just have to wait until Wednesday evening after work. When the door opens, he listens for Hannah’s footsteps and then heavier ones before calling out. “Hey, Mom. Kurt’s working a little late so I didn’t put the lasagna in yet.”

“Is that how you greet your Nana? And who is Kurt?”

Puck bolts up to a sitting position at the sound of the voice. “Nana?”

“Come out here, Noah, it’s been months since I’ve seen you!”

Puck climbs off the bed and walks into the living room, giving his Nana a large hug. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Neither did your mother. I’ve been so busy, but I’ve missed you three!” Hannah is bouncing beside them, and Rina smiles before going into the kitchen, probably to put in the lasagna.

“It’s good to see you,” Puck says truthfully.

“So who is this Kurt? Rina, you didn’t tell me you were seeing anyone!”

“I’m not, Mother,” Rina calls from the kitchen.

“Silly Nana!” Hannah grins. “Kurt is _Noah’s_ boyfriend.”

Nana turns abruptly to look at Puck. “Your boyfriend, eh? When were you going to tell me about this?”

“I meant to!” Puck protests. “I just... you were gone on your cruise and all your trips and...”

“And you forgot about your old Nana,” she nods, clearly teasing him. “Kurt, hmm?”

“Kurt Hummel. His dad owns Hummel Tire & Lube?”

“That the boy whose dad had the heart attack last year?”

“Yeah, that’s Burt.”

She nods, slowly. “And Kurt comes to dinner on Mondays?”

“Yeah.” Puck starts to say more, but there’s a knock on door then. “Hang on.” Puck opens the door and makes a face. “Sorry,” he whispers to Kurt. “I didn’t know she was coming.”

Kurt makes a puzzled face at him, taking off his coat and setting down his bag. “What?”

“Nana’s here,” Puck says, a little louder. “Nana, this is Kurt. Kurt, my Nana.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Kurt says, recovering quickly and offering his hand. Nana has none of that and grabs him in a hug.

“Nice to meet you too, even if my grandson didn’t tell me about you until just now!”

“Nana,” Puck groans.

The rest of the time until dinner passes like that, Nana doing her best to embarrass Puck, Kurt, or the pair of them, until they’re all laughing hysterically. Puck is sandwiched between Kurt and Nana for the meal, and Rina is in an excellent mood, disappearing with Nana after the kitchen is clean. Kurt and Puck retreat to Puck’s bedroom, Kurt pulling out his French books while Puck goes back to his musical styles work. “It’s going to be a long night tonight,” Kurt comments, and Puck nods.

“Long week, I’m afraid,” Puck adds, curling around Kurt on the bed.

 

By the end of fourth period on Tuesday, they’ve already done their full set seven times that day alone, and they’re starting to look glazed over whenever Finn opens his mouth. He looks as if he’s about to suggest an eighth run-through when Kurt speaks up.

“PFLAG is next, why don’t we all take a breather?”

“Yeah, please?” Sam seconds Kurt’s suggestion. “I swear I woke up singing ‘how about love?’ this morning, over and over.”

“Being able to sing it in your sleep is a _good_ thing,” Finn protests.

“Yeah, but we need a break,” Mercedes agrees. “I’ll see you all in ten.”

“The natives are rebelling, sir dictator sir,” Puck jokes, collapsing into the closest chair.

“Hey, you guys come back here!” Finn calls out, half-heartedly. “Fine. _Fine_. Be that way.” He slumps to the ground in a sulk. “Being in charge is thankless.”

“At least there’s chili waiting?” Kurt offers. “Carole sent one of those huge pans of yellow cornbread, too.”

Finn perks up. “I love that cornbread.”

“Well, let’s go,” Puck heaves himself out of the chair, noting that the room emptied particularly fast. “We can get first dibs.”

Finn hauls himself to his feet. “Ok, Chip and Dale, let’s get out of here.”

“We’re exotic dancers now?” Kurt cocks his head. “That’s... different.”

“No, dude,” Finn shakes his head. “Like the Rescue Rangers. It’s just something I’m trying out. If you and me are Munsters, you and Puck should be something, too.”

“I don’t want to be a chipmunk,” Puck protests. “You _like_ the Munster thing.”

“I’ll keep looking, then,” Finn says. “I’ll come up with something good eventually.”

“We’ll wait breathlessly,” Kurt assures him as they walk into the PFLAG classroom. “Oh, that smells heavenly.”

“I _love_ mom-chili!” Finn does a little excited shuffle in place. “It’s so much better than can-chili.”

“And it’s _warm_ ,” Kurt says, voice on the edge of rapture.

“And we get it first,” Puck concludes, grabbing three of the styrofoam bowls and handing one to each of them. “We win.”

“What do you win?” Karofsky asks, ambling into the room ahead of the bell.

“Chili. We win at chili,” Kurt says.

“Okay.” He shrugs. “I, uh, have something for the meeting today.”

“All right.” Kurt nods. “Great.”

Puck sits down between Finn and Kurt, not feeling in the mood to decipher seating arrangements, and attacks his bowl of chili. Casey comes hurrying into the classroom so quickly that when he catches his foot on the door frame, he goes flying, books sailing out of his arms as he face plants.

“Dude, you ok?” Finn asks, but Karofsky is already abandoning his bowl of chili and hurrying to help Casey to his feet. Casey grins at Karofsky like he’s Superman.

“I’m ok!” Casey chirps. “Happens all the time!”

“Be careful,” Karofsky says, gently, which is still pretty strange to Puck. “You want some chili?”

“There’s chili? That’s so _great!_ ” Casey keeps on grinning and trots after Karofsky to the food table.

“That right there is kinda weird,” Finn whispers to Puck. “I mean, cute or whatever. But weird.”

Puck coughs a little to cover up a snort of laughter and nods his agreement. Santana and Brittany walk in next. “Oh, look. Huey, Dewey, and Louie,” Santana smirks at the three of them sitting down.

“Yes!” Finn says, doing a fist pump into the air. “I was totally going to use that one next.”

“Why do people want to make me a cartoon animal?” Kurt asks, somewhat mournfully.

“You look like a cartoon animal,” Finn says. “In a good way.”

“There is no good way to look like a cartoon animal.” Kurt shakes his head and sighs. “And you couldn’t have used that one next.”

“Yeah, dude, that’s three. Not two.”

“Well, there’s three of us. I was gonna try out nicknames for that, too,” Finn says. “Like ‘Three Amigos’ or whatever.”

“That’s a hilarious movie.”

“I know, right?” Finn grins. “You’ve gotta be Steve Martin, though. I’m totally Chevy Chase.”

“I don’t want to be Martin Short,” Kurt whines.

“Too bad, dude,” Finn says. “It’s true. You are.”

“No. I refuse. Find a different nickname.”

“Find a different nickname for who?” Mercedes asks as she walks in, Sam, Mike, and Tina behind her. Some of the underclassmen follow, then Brown and Rickenbacker together.

“I refuse to be Martin Short,” Kurt explains without really explaining. “Wouldn’t you?”

“He’s funny,” Finn protests.

“No,” Kurt repeats. “Next.”

Puck shakes his head, trying not to laugh, as Rachel slips into the room pushing Artie behind another group of underclassmen. It is pretty amazing; every week, they’ve had to expand their circle a little more. Beiste and Schue walk in together, standing at the back next to Ms. Pillsbury.

The next group through the door is a handful of AV kids, led by Lauren. “‘Sup, Kurt. Puckerman. Hudson. It’s ok if I sit in on your big gay club meeting?”

“Everyone’s welcome,” Kurt says with a smile. “Except Jacob ben Israel, but he’s a special case.”

“And Jojo, but only ‘cause I’ll kick his ass. Again.” Finn says, quietly enough that the adults in the back of the room can pretend they didn’t hear it.

“Is it bad that I want him to show up now?” Kurt mutters to Puck, and Puck shakes his head.

“Alrighty then,” Lauren says, ignoring the conversation between Puck and Kurt. “If you ladies will excuse me, I’ve got some sitting around to do.”

“I’m not a lady,” Finn snipes back at her.

“Not many of us in here are,” Santana says. “Take a seat, Zizes. Hudson’ll read us all the riot act once we get started.”

“Finn Hudson, PFLAG Bouncer,” Puck jokes.

“Hey, I’ll own it,” Finn says.

“I think we can get started,” Kurt interjects. “We’ll do introductions and then David said he had something to share.” Karofsky holds up a battered-looking envelope and nods. “So, I’ll begin. I’m Kurt Hummel, I’m a senior, and I’m gay. And I didn’t bring any free condoms this week.”

Puck raises one hand. “I’m Puck. This week I’m here for Carole’s chili. Shh.”

“I’m Finn and I’ll be your PFLAG Bouncer this afternoon,” Finn says, with a theatrical bow from his chair at the scattering of applause.

A few of the underclassmen tentatively introduce themselves before they come to the AV club members, Lauren first. “I’m Lauren Zizes, that’s with a z, and I’m here because nothing happens in this school without me knowing about it.”

“It doesn’t leave this room, Zizes,” Santana shoots from across the room. “Understand?”

“First of all, you? Don’t scare me, chickenlegs,” Lauren says, narrowing her eyes at Santana. “Secondly, I said I know about it. I didn’t say I talk about it.”

“Good,” Tina interjects. “It’s just important to a lot of people, Lauren.”

The rest of the AV club members mutter something about wanting to see what all the fuss was about, after the assembly, and Karofsky introduces himself. “Hi, I’m David Karofsky, and I’m a senior. I, uh, I’m here for a lot of different reasons.”

Casey wiggles like an overeager puppy in the next chair during Karofsky’s whole introduction. When it’s his turn, he says, “Casey! Still gay!” and actually gives a thumbs up in Kurt, Puck, and Finn’s direction.

It’s while the next few people are introducing themselves that Puck registers that Quinn’s not there. Unsurprising, really; he’d been surprised that she attended as long as she did. “Brown,” a voice intrudes on Puck’s thoughts. “Junior.”

“Rickenbacker. Uh, Rick. I say that every time, don’t I? I’m a sophomore. Here because apparently I needed an attitude adjustment,” Rickenbacker says, with a little snort of laughter at himself.

“Is it working?” Mike asks, mildly.

Rickenbacker shrugs. “I didn’t have to get dragged here by my collar the last two meetings, so I guess so.”

“Cool.” Mike shrugs. “I’m Mike, I’m a senior.”

Puck admittedly tunes out some of the introductions, but he makes himself pay attention after awhile, curious as to what Santana will say, once Brittany finishes.

“I’m Brittany and I’m a senior and I’m bisexual.”

“I’m Santana. I’m also a senior and... I’m a lesbian.”

Lauren looks surprised and Rickenbacker, like he can’t help himself, says, “Really?”

“No, I thought I’d mess with you.” Santana rolls her eyes. “Yes, really.”

A few of the underclassmen do look surprised, but most of them just smile and nod, especially a few of the younger girls. Schue looks like someone hit him over the head; maybe it’s just occurred to him that his show choir is full of alphabet soup.

Rachel finishes up the introductions, sitting next to Kurt on the other side. “I’m Rachel. I’m a senior, like many of us, and I’m here because I’m a straight ally.”

“Before David speaks, does anyone have any questions or concerns?” Nobody raises a hand, but Casey turns his highbeam smile in Karofsky’s direction. Kurt nods. “All right. David?”

“Uh, yeah. So some of you probably remember Azimio, who graduated last year. Anyway, he enlisted over the summer and I thought some of what he had to say about the repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell was kind of interesting. If that’s okay?”

“Cool, yeah,” Finn responds.

Karofsky pulls the letter out of the envelope and folds it over a couple of times before clearing his throat. “Okay. ‘Because we didn’t start boot camp until after the repeal was certified, we were some of the first guys to have training integrated from the beginning, instead of after the fact. Everyone was pretty careful about it until the twentieth came and went. Two of the guys in my platoon came out that day, and we threw them a party. I know, I know, I thought it was weird at first, but there were a lot of ‘em having parties that day, right?’” Karofsky pauses. “Hang on, let me find the next part.”

“‘I talked to a guy who just finished boot camp. He started on the twentieth and never had to come out, just was open from the beginning about his boy back home. I never ever thought I’d say this, but gays serving in the Army? It’s no big deal.’”

Karofsky clears his throat again and refolds the letter, sticking it back in the envelope and then his pocket. “So, uh, I think most of you know that Azimio wasn’t always the most tolerant guy on the block. For him to say that–I think it’s a pretty big deal.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of an understatement,” Finn snorts. “I don’t think he could have called us ‘lady’ more times than he did and still have had time to go to class.”

“What kind of training did they have? How not to be an asshole?” Sam asks, skeptical.

“I don’t know,” Karofsky admits. “I know there was something about myths and facts, maybe.”

“It’s good that things are changing,” Mercedes offers. “But people shouldn’t have to go through boot camp to get it.”

“Oh, I agree. But if they’re there anyway, it’s good to know their training is effective, I thought.”

“And now I can be drafted,” Kurt sighs, echoing Puck’s own thoughts. “I suppose nothing is one hundred percent good news.”

“Tough break, dude,” Finn says, snickering. “Though, now I’m trying to picture all the things you’d do to your uniform to make it more fashionable, and that’s kinda hilarious.”

“Don’t they do awful things to you if you modify the uniform?” Rachel asks. “Kurt would be court-martialed or waterboarded or whatever!”

“They don’t waterboard you for being fabulous,” Lauren says. “Where are you getting that? Fox News?”

“I try not to watch the news, it upsets me,” Rachel says primly.

“Why does that not surprise me?” Lauren asks.

“Okay,” Kurt cuts in. “So we’re talking about an area where traditionally it was seen as the province of straight men only. What are some other areas like that?”

“Football?” Rickenbacker says, tenuously. “Only, that’s not true, because you played football, right?”

“For few games,” Kurt agrees. “We can always see who can kick a field goal the farthest sometime. However, it is true in that no college or professional player has been out while a player.”

“Heh,” Rickenbacker laughs a little. “We should try that some time.”

“Loggers. And probably, like, guys who work on oil rigs or something,” Finn suggests. “Those are traditionally straight jobs, aren’t they?”

“Oh, I’m a lumberjack and I’m ok,” Artie sings, and there’s a wave of laughter that passes through the group. “I don’t know, Finn. That guy wears women’s clothing and hangs around in bars.”

“All professional sports,” Karofsky notes. “Not just football. Whoever breaks down that wall is going to be on the cover of magazines.”

“Lion tamers,” Brittany says. “Also weather men.”

“Weather men?” Mercedes echoes. “They can’t be gay?”

“Have you ever met a gay weather man?” Brittany asks. “Have any of you?”

“I haven’t met any weather men,” Mercedes answers. “Gay or straight.”

“Trust me. Weather men.”

“Okay. Well. David brought up an interesting point, that many people will be very interested as some of these areas become more visibly integrated. Some people have suggested that as the military opens up, it will have a ripple effect in other areas.”

“So what sport do you think’ll go first?” Finn asks. “I mean, obviously it’s not gonna be football. Baseball, maybe?”

“Baseball does seem the most likely,” Puck agrees. “I don’t see it happening in basketball. Or hockey.” He tilts his head. “I think it brings up an important point, though. Just because a player takes a stand or a team does, that doesn’t mean that we can assume anything about their sexuality.”

“Right. I mean, our team has taken a pretty firm stand,” Finn says, nodding at Coach Beiste. “That doesn’t make any kind of statement about any of us as individuals...well, except that most of us are pretty awesome,” he adds.

“You are all awesome,” Tina agrees, grinning at Mike. “It’s pretty amazing to have so many starters on the team as PFLAG members.”

“These meetings make me feel so much safer,” Casey breathes. “I kinda...um...really love you guys.”

“S’good point. Everyone in here should feel like they can look for anyone else, if they need an ear or a hand or whatever, between meetings,” Puck points out.

“Yes, as we pointed out the other night, some of us are like walking safe spaces,” Kurt comments, glancing over at Finn, who grins.

“PFLAG Bouncer, dude.”

“You can’t break everyone’s kneecaps, dude,” Puck snorts.

Finn looks thoughtful. “Well, I could try.”

“And I think that’s the end of the meeting,” Kurt says, clearly trying not to laugh. “Everyone sign up to bring something for our holiday party on the twentieth.”

 

Puck lies down on one of the benches outside the school, waiting for Kurt. Due to the weird schedule for finals, Kurt didn't have to be there until two, but the final technically is scheduled for two hours. Kurt didn't anticipate taking until four, but it is past the bell and Puck is still waiting. He doesn't really mind, except that it's Tuesday, and he has a conditioned response thing to Tuesdays, too. It's like his body realizes it's three in the afternoon on a Tuesday, and he's hit with an erection and the need to get fucked.

Neither one of which bother him greatly, but it'd be cool to take care of both of those sooner rather than later.

Kurt pulls up a moment later and Puck hurries into the Nav, cursing the people walking by. "Today's a good day for hitting that accelerator," he offers.

"Is it?" Kurt raises his eyebrows and smiles slightly. "Good to know."

"Yeah," Puck grins slowly as they leave the campus. He reaches across the console and wraps his fingers with Kurt's. "Final okay?"

"Boring and long, but relatively easy," Kurt confirms. "Just one more final and it'll feel like we're back in late August."

"Except with an added rehearsal schedule from hell," Puck jokes. "I think Sam's just the only one who will admit to dreaming about our set list."

"Oh, I caught myself doing some of the choreography in the shower yesterday morning," Kurt admits. "That said, I'm looking forward to a day off from rehearsing tomorrow."

"Fuck, yeah," Puck agrees. "Think we can convince Finn to wait until after break to create our set for Regionals?"

"Probably not," Kurt sighs.

As soon as the garage door closes, Puck grabs Kurt and presses their mouths together almost harshly. Kurt matches his actions, pushing his tongue at the junction of Puck's lips until they part, and then slides his hands under Puck's shirt, resting on his back. Puck curls one hand around Kurt's neck, holding him in place so they can't pull far apart. "I want you," Puck gasps out finally. "Badly."

"Yes," Kurt agrees, nodding. "Inside, now." It takes a long time to get inside and up the stairs; every few steps one of them will back the other against the wall and initiate another hard, deep kiss, or otherwise press their bodies together. By the time Kurt's door swings shut, they're both topless and Kurt's neck and shoulders look like he's been attacked. Puck doesn't look in the mirror, but he's pretty sure he's got a couple of spots, too.

Puck reaches for his jeans and removes the last of clothing, watching Kurt do the same, then grabs Kurt again, carefully aligning their cocks against each other and then thrusting against Kurt while they kiss. Kurt's fingers tighten around Puck's biceps and there is nothing gentle about what they're doing, all hard grasps and teeth clanking and bodies thrusting, all of it hard and fast and passionate, but none of it soft.

Kurt reaches between them and wraps his fingers around Puck's erection, sliding his hand down and back up, fast, then stilling. He turns his head to the side, putting his lips to Puck's ears, and whispers. "What do you want, baby?" His fingers squeeze just a bit.

Puck groans, letting his head fall forward onto Kurt's shoulder. "You inside me," he manages. "Hard."

"Yes." There's just a slight hiss in Kurt's voice, a little hitch in his breath. "God, going to fuck you _so hard_ , Puck."

"Yeah." Puck turns his head and latches his mouth over one of the already-dark spots, sucking and then nipping at the bruised skin. "Hard and deep and."

"Mmmhmm," Kurt agrees. He runs his hands down Puck's back and then squeezes Puck's ass, almost pinching him. "Baby. Yes. You're going to _scream_ for me."

"Just you." Puck whimpers as Kurt's finger brushes against his entrance before disappearing. " _Please_ , blue eyes."

"On the bed," Kurt whispers, then takes a step back. Puck climbs onto the bed, watching Kurt grab the lube and smear it on two fingers. Puck flips himself over, then, on his hands and knees, and feels the bed dip slightly as Kurt kneels behind him. "Look at you," Kurt murmurs. "Amazing."

One hand rests on Puck's back, and then Kurt pushes the two slicked fingers inside Puck. It's not gentle but it feels good, like something clicking into place, and Puck doesn't know how he's going to wait until Kurt's cock is inside him again. He'd sort of thought, back in September, that maybe after awhile he wouldn't crave Kurt so badly, that he'd be able to wait or go days, but no, he's still tactile and he still needs this, needs Kurt so badly. He needs Kurt's cock inside him and his cock inside Kurt and mouths and hands and everything, and he almost cries out with the sheer weight of the _need_ he has.

Then Kurt's fingers disappear and Kurt's erection replaces them, moving in at a steady pace as Puck closes his eyes, breath coming in shallow spurts. "Kurt, Kurt, fuck, please, _oh_ fuck need."

Kurt doesn't respond for a long moment, pushing farther until all of him is inside Puck, and Puck can feel Kurt's balls rest near his own and fuck, if that isn't hot, too. It's probably good that they don't take pictures more often or Puck would never get anything done. "Fuck yes," Kurt says quietly after a moment. " _Mine_. My Puck. God, baby."

"Yeah," Puck gasps. "Yours. Please, K." Kurt's fingers twitch against Puck's skin, then grasp tightly at his hips before he begins to move, pulling out and slamming back in with no build up. Puck arches his body and bites down on his lip, trying to spread his legs wider and take Kurt farther inside him.

Kurt shifts his body slightly, changing the angle of his cock, and Puck gasps as Kurt goes from brushing his prostate to practically ramming it. "Like that," Kurt murmurs, barely audible, and Puck can respond only with the barest of nods. Kurt's speed increases, and Puck deliberately and slowly tightens around him, making Kurt cry out. His fingers dig into Puck's hips and there are going to be bruises, Puck knows, and he rocks his hips slightly, meeting Kurt's thrusts.

Puck can hear the shift, somehow, and Kurt's thrusts become just a little uncoordinated, just enough that Puck knows Kurt's going to come, soon, and he clenches down. He's so focused on Kurt coming that when Kurt begins to fill him, his own orgasm takes him almost by surprise. Just like Kurt promised, he screams it out, shaking a little before his arms and legs just give out and he collapses onto the bed, Kurt on top of him. "K," he mumbles into the pillow.

"Baby," is Kurt's muffled response. "You're going to be sore," follows a moment later.

"Yeah," Puck agrees. "S'all good."

Kurt chuckles for a moment, the sound reverberating down Puck's back. "We're a beautiful mess."

"You're beautiful."

"Shower with me."

"Shower or _shower_?"

"The latter." Kurt's voice is full of amusement. He moves off Puck and a hand trails down Puck's arm before taking his hand. "Come on. I'll make it worth your while."

"Yeah?" Puck grins and follows Kurt. "Tell me."

"How about I just show you?"

"That works too."

"Did you really take a cold shower on Friday?" Kurt asks as he fiddles with the tap. Puck just raises an eyebrow at him. Kurt flushes a little and sighs as they step in. "Yeah, me too."

"I don't even know what I want anymore," Puck confesses. "I don't know if I want to come out or want to not come out or… I think I just want to be done so we don't have to even think about it."

"I'm trying so hard not to wish this last year away, but sometimes it's all I can do. Is it December yet, is it winter break yet, is it 2012 yet, and then with Sectionals being postponed it's just worse." Kurt wraps his arms around Puck. "Let's go out to dinner. I know we should study but."

"Yeah. But." Puck agrees, and then he stops as Kurt slides down his body and licks his cock, mouthing the tip. "Fuck, blue eyes."

Kurt looks up at Puck, smiling a little around Puck's erection before closing his eyes and setting to his self-appointed task. Kurt's tongue does things that Puck can't really describe as Kurt hollows his cheeks and strokes the base of Puck's cock with one hand. Puck leans himself against the wall and tangles his fingers in Kurt's wet hair, letting his eyes drift close. It doesn't take long for Kurt to bring Puck to the edge, and his hips jerk forward as he comes. Kurt kisses the tip of his cock before standing up and bringing their mouths tightly together. The water is starting to run colder before Kurt finally releases Puck and steps back slightly. "I love you."

"I know." Puck squeezes Kurt's hand. "I love you, too."

It takes longer than it properly should to get dressed and back down the stairs, but neither of them can seem to keep their hands or their lips to themselves. Given that, Kurt decides to drive down 75 fifteen minutes or so before they find a place to eat, ending up at a local place with each of them eating a steak before sharing a dessert. It's full dark, Carole, Burt, and Finn all home, before they get back to the Hudmel house and actually start studying for their respective finals the next day.

 

Wednesday is about as exciting as Puck has come to expect, except they have an extra thirty minutes or so before Kurt has to go to work, which they spend at Pat's having celebratory doughnuts. "To the end of dual enrollment for the quarter," Puck raises his doughnut in a mock-toast.

"To our first finished college classes," Kurt raises his own doughnut. "And to three blessedly free hours on Friday. Not to mention three times next week."

"Here, here." Puck grins. "Is it Friday yet?"

"Alas, no. Instead it is time for us to earn money, so that we can do things like, oh, Chicago."

"I like that plan."

"I do as well." They reluctantly stand and clear their table before heading back towards Starbuck's and Burt's shop. "I'll talk to you later?"

"Yep," Puck affirms just as he climbs out. "Be good, blue eyes."

"Baby, I'm always good."

 

Finn's about to head into the choir room during fourth period when he remembers that they _study_ on Wednesdays. They don't rehearse. Dammit! Finn's got that restless feeling, that need to move, and he wonders if he could maybe just blow off the group study hall and use the hour to run or lift some weights.

But, no, Rachel's waiting for him, and it's all about making the best of the time he has, right?

Finn wonders if anybody needs any sort of direction or encouragement with their studying. He's not super book-smart or anything, but he can give a great pep talk, and he can maybe motivate them to make awesomer grades or something. Yes, that's a possibility. That would work.

 

Puck waits until he gets home after work and says good night to his mom and Hannah before picking up the phone and calling Kurt. “Hi,” Kurt says, sounding like he’s smiling. “Guess what I’m doing?”

“Lying naked on your bed?”

“No.” Kurt giggles. “If you were here, I maybe would be.”

“Damn.” Puck sighs, very dramatically. “Well, I give up, then. What are you doing?”

“Looking at the website for flight plus hotel for New York.”

“Oh, cool.” Puck flops down on his bed. “What have you found?”

“Is about $500 good, for flight plus hotel? I can’t find anything better and still leave at a decent time, not to mention staying in a decent hotel.”

“Yeah, that’s a little less than I was figuring, actually,” Puck agrees. “What’d you find for us?”

“A six pm flight out on Wednesday, so we can probably still go to our dual enrollment classes, or at least one of them, and we won’t have to fly out until 7:30 pm on that Sunday. I thought that if we’re in the city, we deserve at least one day without auditions, right?”

“Definitely.”

“And I found an exquisite hotel on the Upper West Side. One queen-size bed; I’ll email you the link later. We’ll have a little time at least to explore the neighborhood, too.”

“Awesome.” Before too much longer, though, they have to actually attempt to do the work they’ve each been putting off all week, including a problem set for physics, and it’s late before they hang up and Puck collapses into bed. Maybe they can convince Schue to let them out of rehearsal early the next afternoon.

 

“Rubato, not rococo,” Puck mutters to himself, marking up the score in front of him with a pencil and frowning.

There’s a light tapping on the door and then a muffled voice call through the door, “Noah? Noah, are you in there?”

Puck puts down his pencil and looks up, recognizing Ms. Pillsbury’s voice. “Yeah, Ms. P.”

She quietly opens the door just enough to slip into the classroom. “I’m not interrupting you too much, am I? Because I can come back later if you’d prefer.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Puck says, turning away from the piano with a little bit of relief. “What’s up?”

“Well, I wanted to see what kind of progress you feel you’re making with your music theory syllabus,” she begins, perching carefully on the edge of a chair. “Would you say you’re roughly halfway through?”

“Yeah, probably,” Puck agrees. “The first couple of sections went quicker than I expected, so I’ve been taking my time with all the score analysis material. The aural skills section was pretty easy, since that’s actually how I learned most of what I already know.”

“That sounds excellent, Noah,” Ms P say, patting his notebook almost affectionately. “I’m not really sure what that all means, but it sounds like you’re just zipping right through it.”

Puck grins a little at her confession. “Yeah, most people stare at me strangely if I start going into too much detail.”

“Well, not everybody has your talent or dedication, Noah,” she answers. “You’ve really blossomed.”

“Uh, thanks,” Puck responds, shuffling his feet a little.

“Well, so,” Ms P says, clearing her throat. “I wanted to talk to you a little bit about auditions, to make sure you’re prepared.”

Puck nods. “Okay. Yeah, I know MSM has the pre-screening process, but I guess I’ll hear about that by mid-January?”

“I believe they’ll let you know before the end of December. Happy Hanukkah!”

“Or unhappy,” Puck points out, slightly sardonically.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine. I know you’ve likely been focused on the application process, so I went ahead and printed the important parts of the audition information.” She hands him a stack of papers. “I’ve highlighted the relevant parts. There, see? Right there,” she adds, pointing to the lines of bright pink highlighter.

Puck nods, scanning the highlighted text. Yeah, he had been pretty focused on finishing his essay, not to mention submitting scores and recordings, but now as he’s looking over the audition information, he’s beginning to think he shouldn’t have been so focused. “Oh. The placement exams are part of the audition process.”

“I know you haven’t had much, if any, formal instruction,” Ms Pillsbury begins, tentatively. “You’ve got a lot of natural ability, of course, and you’re doing well with the course, but if you’d like, I could call around, maybe to OSU Lima and see if there’s anyone available to give you a few private lessons between now and the auditions.”

Puck nods, biting his lip and thinking. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d probably be good. I mean, I can do the ear training and the instrument stuff without too much trouble, but the theory and I have no idea what ‘general music culture’ even means.”

“Oh, gosh, I don’t know what that means, either!”

Puck laughs. “So, yeah, that’d probably be a good plan. I could probably hang around on campus after my two classes for an hour or so.”

“I’ll see what we can set up for you, then,” Ms P says. “I’ll come back by next Thursday with any new information. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Puck nods. “I appreciate it.”

“Okay, Noah. I’ll leave you to your work, then.” She stands, gives him a little smile, and heads towards the door. “Keep it up! We’re all very proud of you.”

Puck nods and stares at the papers in his hands. Yeah, he’s sort of regretting not looking more closely at the audition requirements earlier, but he does still have nearly three months. That’s something, at any rate, and some of it won’t be that hard. The rest of it... Puck sighs. He’s already at a disadvantage; most people applying to places like MSM and Mannes have had years of private instruction in one or more instruments, not to mention concurrent theory lessons. Puck has everything he’s figured out on his own in an attempt to get the music out of his head and onto paper. The sheer number of songs he’s written is unusual, that much he’s pretty sure of, but he’s got to be able to translate that into something a bit more like what they are looking for.

He sandwiches the papers in with his music theory work and picks a seat in the back as soon as the bell rings, curious as to what Schue will have them do. One run-through of their Sectionals set is the answer, and then he claps his hands, asking if anyone has a holiday song that they’d like to sing. Brittany grins and says she’d love to sing “Here Comes Santa Claus,” so Schue gestures to the jazz band as she does exactly that.

 _Here comes Santa Claus!  
Here comes Santa Claus!  
Right down Santa Claus Lane!  
Vixen and Blitzen and all his reindeer  
are pulling on the reins.  
Bells are ringing, children singing;  
All is merry and bright.  
Hang your stockings and say your prayers,  
'Cause Santa Claus comes tonight._

When she finishes, everyone applauds, then looks at Schue, who shrugs. “Why don’t you guys go on and get out of here?” he suggests. “We’ll do two run-throughs tomorrow in the auditorium.” With that, he waves and heads towards the door.

“Friday night!” Rachel says before anyone can leave. “My dads have generously suggested that we could repeat our sleepover this week, this time in my Oscar room. They only request that we make an attempt to carpool as much as possible–Kurt, you don’t mind driving, do you? We can probably make do with just two vehicles if you do, right?”

“Can anyone else’s car hold five people?” Kurt asks, and Santana reluctantly raises her hand.

“There are technically five seat belts. The backseat is a little cramped, I bet, but just to Berry’s and back? It should be fine.”

“Wonderful!” Rachel beams at all of them. “See you tomorrow!”

Puck sighs as he falls into step with Kurt, heading towards the parking lot. Kurt looks at him and raises one eyebrow in silent question.

“Ms. P came by this afternoon, and she was showing me the specifics about auditions. It’s just... a lot. All those placement tests? Same weekend as auditions.”

Kurt winces a little. “What do you have to do for the actual auditions?”

“MSM is just an interview, apparently. Mannes is an interview, too, but I’ve got to show competency on an instrument, and they’re pretty specific about what they’re looking for in the interview.” Puck slumps into the passenger seat of the Nav. “Ms. P said she’d find out if OSU-Lima has a prof or something that’d be willing to give me a few private lessons on the theory and stuff before the auditions. I guess that’s something.” Kurt nods. “So much for forgetting about _everything_ over the break, right?”

“I was ignoring the audition requirements, too,” Kurt agrees. “Since I can’t make up my mind about _which_ concentration, I get to prepare for three different things.”

Puck laughs for a moment. “You’re going to try to do all three, aren’t you?”

Kurt looks briefly guilty. “What good is AP and dual enrollment credit if you don’t fill the empty slots in your schedule, right?”

“Or you could relax and spend more time in bed,” Puck smirks.

“Because you’re going to have so much free time,” Kurt teases, grinning.

“Fair point.” If Kurt has any doubt about Puck getting into Mannes or MSM, he doesn’t let on, ever, which probably makes him the only one. Puck has doubts–a lot of them. He knows exactly how atypical he is compared to the other people applying. Most of the time he’s convinced that he’s going to walk in, they’ll take a look at him, and just start laughing, asking him what the hell he’s doing there.

It’d be easier, really, if he had dreams about walking into the room naked, for instance, but no, he’s fully awake and aware of what he’s thinking, and it’s far more likely to get asked why the hell he’s wasting their time than it is for him to literally forget how to play the guitar or the piano or how to write music.

Those are the days he tries to convince himself he could be happy writing music on the side and working as a manager or something at Starbucks for the rest of his life.

 

Puck knows that Finn’s going to institute the early morning practices even sooner when Regionals approaches, but he wonders if maybe they can convince him to pick Tuesday morning _or_ Friday morning, because the whole point of quitting football was partially so he’d have three whole mornings a week to sleep in. Getting up for rehearsal two of them? Not part of Puck’s plan. He stretches and snorts irritably when the alarm blares on Friday morning. Sure, he and Kurt managed to finish earlier than usual the night before, and sure, 6:30 is a hell of a lot better than 5:00 am, but he’s still not exactly pleased.

A cup of coffee and a pastry later, not to mention a few minutes in the back of Nav taking advantage of the tinted windows, and Puck thinks he’ll manage not to kill Finn.

Mainly because he and Kurt have several hours free that afternoon.

When they reach the auditorium, Finn is already there with Rachel, heads leaning close together in quiet discussion. “Morning,” Puck calls, nodding and gesturing with his cup in something that is meant to approximate a wave.

“Puck, Kurt, Rachel had a great idea for the morning of Sectionals,” Finn answers. “Come over and add your two cents.”

“Tomorrow morning, you mean?” Puck snorts.

“Oh, shit!” Finn says, clamping his hand over his mouth, his eyes going a little crazy-scary. “That’s tomorrow,” he mumbles through his fingers. “The blizzard totally screwed up my internal compass or whatever.”

“Well, what’s the idea?” Kurt unwinds his scarf and takes off his coat before climbing up on the stairs, coffee still in hand.

“We should have a little buffet, with everyone’s favorite breakfast food! If everyone tells me their favorite today, my dads can go shopping during the game tonight. It’ll make all of us feel happy and appreciated! Kurt, Noah, what are your favorites?”

“Omelets.”

“Bacon. _Real_ bacon, no tofu or turkey.”

“Told you,” Finn says to Rachel, grinning. He turns back to Puck and Kurt. “Belgian waffle station,” he adds, pointing back at himself with both thumbs. “Oh, yeah.”

“What about you, Rachel?” Kurt asks, probably trying to distract her from her gaping at Puck’s unrepentant grin.

“Daddy makes this vegan tofu breakfast bake that I adore,” Rachel answers after a beat. “It uses tofu crumbles and soy cheese and lots of vegetables. I should give you the recipe, Kurt, it’d be great for your dad!”

“Yes, maybe he and Carole can enjoy it...”

“This fall, after we’ve gone to college,” Finn finishes.

“Exactly,” Kurt nods. “Warn Hannah, Puck.”

Puck laughs. “As long as Carole still has her special bacon, she won’t notice.”

Mike, Tina, and Artie show up then. “Morning,” Tina mumbles through a yawn as she helps Mike lift Artie onto the stage. “Ohh, I want coffee,” she says longingly, staring at Puck and Kurt’s cups.

Quinn, Santana, and Brittany enter together, Brittany and Santana with pinkies linked and Quinn talking to them rapidly in a quiet voice. She looks decidedly less sullen than the last time Puck saw her, which he figures means she’s less likely to start snarking at he or Kurt either one.

“Good morning,” Santana calls as they approach, hoisting her own cup of coffee. “Ah, see, some of us think to stop for important things like caffeine.”

“Santana brought me my drink this morning,” Brittany says. “She said she likes it when I’m perky.”

“We all do, sweetie,” Kurt says with a smile.

“Nobody wants a sad Brittany,” Quinn agrees, patting Brittany on the arm. She gives Kurt a small, almost apologetic smile. Kurt dips his head slightly and takes another sip.

“Hey, where’s Sam and Mercedes?” Puck points out, smirking a little. Everyone’s there except for the two of them.

“Where indeed,” Kurt muses, clearly fighting a smirk of his own.

“What? Why would they be late?” Finn sputters. “Don’t they realize how important this is? they can... _do stuff_ any time. This is _rehearsal_!”

Puck has the strange feeling that this might, in fact, be aimed at he and Kurt as well, since Finn couldn’t really say anything in front of everyone on Sunday night. “It’s more likely that Sam slept late,” Mike points out. “And if he’s Mercedes’ ride, well.”

“No, no,” Finn says, starting to pace back and forth. “This is not acceptable. This is a _group effort_ and we can’t have a group effort without the _whole group_ , and we won’t  
have enough rehearsal, and then we’re going to--”

Kurt and Puck exchange a glance and then walk over to Finn, each taking one arm and walking him backward off the stage into the wings. “Dude, _chill_ ,” Puck says forcefully as Finn splutters, cut off mid-sentence.

“Finn, you’re not helping anyone with this miniature breakdown,” Kurt adds. “Go kiss Rachel, and I bet Sam and Mercedes will be here by the time you finish.”

Finn takes a deep breath and then sighs loudly. “Ok. Ok?” He breathes again. “Ok, yeah. I’ll go do that.” He squares his shoulders and walks back out of the wings, surprising Rachel by sweeping her into his arms.

Puck and Kurt look at each other and shrug and walk back onto the stage, watching everyone else’s faces with some amusement. Sam and Mercedes do, in fact, walk in while Finn and Rachel are still lip-locked.

“Is that a new rehearsal technique?” Sam jokes.

Finn breaks away from Rachel. “Nice of you guys to join us,” he says, but he can’t quite seem to muster any heat behind his words.

“Car took a little while to warm up this morning,” Sam says with a shrug. “It’s getting old.”

Finn’s appears much more understanding at that. “Yeah, my truck’s kind of a piece of crap,” he says, “but what can you do, you know? Glad you got it started ok.”

“You _could_ try regular maintenance,” Kurt points out idly. “Sam, did you ever get your shocks looked at?”

Sam blinks. “My shocks? How’d you know that?”

“He has car-radar or something,” Puck answers. “It’s freaky cool.”

“He makes chirping noises at them, like a dolphin,” Finn adds, nodding slowly. “It’s impressive.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “That’s sonar.”

“Those are pretty much the same thing,” Finn answers with a shrug. “Anyway, we can all be dolphins later. Rehearsal now.”

“Are we still doing the costumes this morning?”

“Yup. Kurt, you’ve got everything?”

Kurt nods and points the boxes. “We’ll need to hang them on the racks in the choir room after we change, so Schue can take care of loading them. Keep your shoes with you, though.”

“Do we have to wear them until then?” Brittany asks.

“No, Britt-Britt,” Santana says. “You want me to keep yours, or do you have space in your bag?”

“You can keep mine and then I have space in my bag for other things!” Britt answer, her tone bright and chipper. “I can bring pudding cups.”

“Sure,” Santana nods.

“All right, let’s knock this out of the park,” Mike says, vaulting easily off the stage and grabbing his costume. “Boys in here, girls in the bathroom?”

Finn nods and the girls all exit as a group. The boys quickly change, and Kurt looks them each over with a critical eye. “I think we can get away without anyone pressing them,” he says at last, relief in his voice. The girls parade back in, Tina and Mercedes twirling around each other with their petti-things flying out. “We’re ready,” Rachel calls out, sing-songy.

“Looking great!” Finn shouts back, as he finished buttoning his vest. “Let’s get this done.”

They do two run-throughs of the complete set after warming up, and then head towards the choir room to collect hangers for their costumes. “Any last words?” Mike jokes.

“Yeah,” Finn answers. “Don’t pray for snow.”

Everyone laughs. “Maybe we should have had our sleepover in downtown Columbus,” Sam suggests.

 

"Great job!" Schue smiles at them all brightly at the end of fourth period. "I think we're going to do really well tomorrow. I'll see you all here at 9:25 in the morning for the trip over to the Palace Theatre."

"That's the same theatre as before, right?" Rachel asks, a little anxiously.

"It is," Schue confirms. "And when we win, I made us reservations for dinner nearby. My treat," he clarifies.

"Have you considered how much all of us can eat, Mr. Schue?" Tina asks with a smile. "You might want to find a place with a buffet option."

Schue laughs. "I think we'll manage. The holiday lights should be beautiful, anyway. And of course, Ms. Pillsbury will come with us as our second chaperone."

"Of course," Puck echoes, nodding solemnly and biting his lip to keep from laughing.

"And, uh, good luck tonight, guys," Schue finishes as they all head out of the auditorium. "Go Titans!"

"Freedom!" Puck can't help but exclaim as they spill out into the corridor.

"Right?" Mike answers, grinning. "I'll take it. See you guys tonight!" Mike waves and grabs Tina's hand, pulling her towards the back parking lot.

"They're in a hurry," Santana snorts. "Wish I was headed out of here."

Mercedes laughs. "Yeah, they are." It takes a few minutes for everyone to head towards the lunchroom and Kurt and Puck can follow the path Mike and Tina took.

"Finally," Kurt says with a smirk as they push the doors open and pick their way through the snow.

"Lunch first?"

"Joey's sound good?"

"Joey's sounds perfect," Puck agrees. "And then we have, what?"

"At least four hours." Kurt's grins is slow and lazy. "We'll worry about being responsible and studying _after_ the weekend."

"I completely agree."

They make the most of those four hours, and by the time Puck follows Kurt downstairs to help him cook dinner, Puck is pretty sure that they're both going to be little sore, not to mention they'll both need to be careful while they're changing into and out of their costumes the next day.

Because McKinley finished the regular season undefeated, all of the regional games are at their home stadium, which makes most things much easier. They have to grab everything they'll need for the next day, though, and Burt and Carole actually get there before them, since Puck realizes he's forgotten a few things. Tina and Rachel are already in the stands when they walk up.

"Have a pleasant afternoon, Tina?" Kurt says, grinning at her.

"I did," Tina laughs. "Did you?"

"Definitely," Kurt answers innocently, and Tina accepts the answer at face value, but when Puck glances at Rachel, her cheeks are turning pink as she looks between he and Kurt. "Who are we rooting against tonight?"

"The Lehman Catholic Cavaliers," Mercedes answers from behind them. "From Sidney."

"I remember playing them last year," a voice calls up, and Puck and Kurt head back down the stairs to lift Artie up as he continues. "Weren't they the ones with the really skinny lineman? He looked like he'd break, but instead he just _bent_."

"Yeah, that's right," Puck nods. "I remember that dude. I think he got a scholarship to FSU or something, it was pretty big news."

"Oh, well, no more Gumby linemen," Kurt sighs as they sit down. "Rachel, it's your turn this week."

"Oh, that's right." Rachel hops up. "Coffee and nachos coming right up!"

The game isn't nearly what the last week was; the Cavalier offense manages to score once in the first quarter, taking an early lead before Finn and Mike team up to score two touchdowns in two possessions. By the half, the Titans are up 21-7, and everyone in their row is feeling good.

"Do you know if Finn talked to Wisconsin after last week?" Rachel asks Puck and Kurt quietly as Mercedes and Tina talk loudly about the Cavalier cheerleaders' uniforms. Kurt redirects his attention from critiquing the shade of gold of the polyester to answer her.

"I think he was going to wait and send today's game film at the same time." Kurt exhales and shakes his head. "Then there's a quiet period where they can't contact him and vice versa. Have you gotten your auditions scheduled?"

"Yes, the last full week in February," Rachel confirms. "What about you?"

"The first weekend in March."

"What about you, Noah?"

"Same as Kurt," Puck nods.

"Oh, are you going at the same time?" Rachel asks quietly, lowering her voice further.

Kurt answers her, equally quiet. "Yes, I got all the travel arrangements taken care of earlier in the week. We're staying right next to Central Park, Upper West Side."

"Oh, nice," Rachel grins. "My dads made our arrangements, I'm not sure where they chose. Which airport are you flying into and out of?"

"Columbus and LaGuardia. Newark would be easier but the times are better for LaGuardia."

"Hmm. I think Daddy was talking about Toledo and JFK." She shrugs. "Oh, look they're back on the field!"

"Beiste looks unhappy," Kurt notes, and Puck laughs.

"I think she looked a little unhappy even after last week's game, K."

"Ooh, look at the boys," Mercedes squeals. "This is so exciting."

Kurt raises an eyebrow but shrugs and doesn't say anything. The game proceeds similarly to the first half, with Finn's completion rate probably around 90%. It's not quite as impressive as the week before, thanks in part to a stunning interception on Lehman Catholic's part, but it's still a great game that ends with the Titans up, 35-21.

"On to the regional finals!" Tina cries as the clock runs down and the stands erupt. Puck feels odd, watching the team celebrate. He does every week, like he's supposed to be in two places at once. He's supposed to be on the field, part of the team, but he equally feels that he's supposed to be in the stands, sandwiched between Rachel and Kurt, watching the team. It doesn't make any sense; how can two opposing things both be right? It also doesn't make any sense that something he did for years doesn't feel more right than something he's only been doing for a month and a half. He shrugs and follows the others down the stands.

"I know Quinn and Brittany are riding with Santana, I thought Mike and I would too. That leaves Mercedes, Sam, Artie, Rachel, Puck, and Finn with you, Kurt," Tina says, frowning a little. "Does that work?"

"As long as no one minds waiting on Finn to finish showering," Kurt says. "Rachel, do we need to stop and pick up anything?"

"Daddy was going to get Chinese food for all of us, but he said we might want to go and get doughnuts for the morning, to go with the buffet. I think it's really that doughnuts are his favorite."

"All right. We'll do that," Kurt agrees. "Let's go collect the conquering heroes."

They stand outside the locker room for a few minutes before Sam emerges, then Mike heads off with Tina and the Cheerios. Finn finally emerges, engaged in some kind of apparently involved conversation with Karofsky, possibly about National Signing Day, by the sound of it.

“Finn!” Rachel cries out, stepping up to fling her arms around him. “You guys are amazing!”

Finn looks a little startled, like he hadn’t even noticed her there. “Oh, thanks, Rach,” he answers, slipping his arm around her waist. “We’ll talk more about it later, man,” he says to Karofsky. “We ready to head out, guys?” This last, to Puck and Kurt.

“All seven of us,” Kurt agrees. “It’ll be cozy.”

“I like cozy,” Finn murmurs into Rachel’s hair, where he’s currently burying his face while she giggles. Sam and Mercedes are similarly wrapped around each other and Puck scowls, sticks his hands in his pockets, and leads the way out to the Nav, where at least he gets the passenger seat without Mercedes challenging him. Once everyone is ensconced, Puck hooks up Kurt’s phone to the sound system and hits shuffle.

“Uh, where are we doing, Kurt?” Finn asks. “This isn’t the way to Rachel’s.”

“We have to get doughnuts on the way,” Kurt explains. “The thirteenth item for breakfast.”

“Mmm, I can’t wait for breakfast,” Mercedes admits. “Who knows what Mr. Schue’s going to feed us for lunch, if we’re having some fancy dinner out?”

“We can’t eat too much before performing anyway,” Kurt points out, pulling into the parking lot at Pat’s and looking at Rachel expectantly. She hops out and Kurt keeps the Nav running, no doubt for the heat. Puck sighs and leans his head against the window. What he told Kurt was true; he doesn’t even know what he wants, except to get out of Lima.

“So, do you really think we’ve got a shot this year?” Artie asks, not like he’s really concerned about the answer so much as like he just needs to talk.

“Football or Nationals?” Sam asks.

Artie shrugs. “Either?”

“Nationals, we’re going that,” Mercedes says definitively.

“I’d really prefer to see Lancaster go down instead of us play them,” Sam offers. “But either way, I think we’ll win.”

“Cool,” Artie answers. “How long does it take to get doughnuts, anyway?”

“Long enough for us to interrogate you about how things are going with Mindy,” Puck offers with a grin. “You know Pat’s is always packed after a game.”

“Oh, yeah, Mindy,” Artie says, evasively. “It’s, you know.”

“You know?” Sam asks, brow furrowed. “Good you know or bad you know?”

“Good you know. Extra good, even.”

“She coming to watch us tomorrow?” Kurt asks.

Artie smiles and pushes his glasses up a little. “That’s the plan. She might stick around, too, if that’s okay with everybody. She said she’d give me a ride. Home. She’d give me a ride _home_.”

All the boys laugh at Artie’s slip, Mercedes staring at them with a look of almost befuddlement. Puck notices most of her confusion is focused on Kurt, and he remembers what Kurt said about Mercedes and straight boys. “Nice,” Puck offers as everyone calms down, and then Rachel returns to the Nav, struggling to see over the stack of boxes.

She passes them off to Finn before climbing back in. “Okay! Ready!”

Kurt turns the volume back up as they turn onto the road and towards Rachel’s house. When the next song comes on, Puck starts singing along, having long ago memorized most of the lyrics on that particular favorite album of Kurt’s. Kurt joins in, and when they finish, the rest of the car is quiet. Puck turns around and raises his eyebrows. “What?”

Sam has a speculative look on his face that’s matched by one on Mercedes’ face as well. “That song,” he says slowly.

“Yep,” Mercedes nods. “I think so.”

“What?” Artie asks, then pauses for a moment. “Oh. Yeah. I think so, too.”

“I’m very confused,” Kurt admits.

“We’ll tell you later,” Mercedes says, and Puck can barely make out the sidelong glance she shoots at Finn. “It doesn’t matter until at least Sunday, anyway.”

“You people are strange,” Puck proclaims as they finally reach Rachel’s and pile inside, bags and boxes bumping into everyone.

“Greetings, Rachel’s friends,” Leroy says, as he opens the door with a theatrical bow. Rachel gives him a quick hug and the stony look that Leroy gives Finn over Rachel’s shoulder is significantly more brief than the last time they were all over there. “I trust everyone is able to keep his or her hands to him or herself tonight?”

“I make no promises,” Kurt says, voice syrupy sweet as he grins at Leroy.

Leroy laughs, a deep belly laugh. “And you were the one I was the _most_ concerned about.”

“It’s true,” Kurt nods. “I just can’t control myself.”

Puck is having to work really hard not to laugh hysterically, not so much at Kurt but at the expression on Mercedes’ face as she watches the conversation. She’s staring at Kurt like she’s never seen him before, and part of Puck wants to just smirk at her, tell her that this? This is _his_ Kurt, the one that not everybody gets to see, and definitely not as often as he does. He shakes his head. Kurt’s not the only one who can’t control himself. There’s probably something amusing in that thought, that it’s one of the two couples who can’t knock anybody up or whatever, but he can’t put his finger on it exactly.

“Kurt has a hard time not being inappropriate,” Finn tells the group, struggling to keep a straight face. “It’s difficult, being his little brother.”

“Poor Finn,” Puck mock-coos. “Life is hard for you, man.”

“We’re going to head downstairs now,” Rachel addresses Leroy. “Is the Chinese food here already?”

“Should be here in the next ten minutes. You kids be good down there,” Leroy says, raising an eyebrow at Finn, who puts his hands up like he’s being robbed at gun point.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Puck volunteers, clapping one hand on Finn’s shoulder and then the other on Kurt’s. “Can’t trust these Munsters.”

“We’re unsavory,” Finn says, with a slow, wide-eyed nod.

“And who’s going to keep an eye on _you_ , Puck?” Mercedes asks as they head down the stairs.

“Me? I’m a model of, uh. Virtue. And restraint.” He nods. “Especially compared to Finn. Ask him about his adventures with impatience.”

“I eat the bagel bites while they’re still hot,” Finn explains, which is exactly accurate, but still sounds like code for something dirty.

“And pierogies,” Puck chides. “Don’t leave anything out.”

“Hey, I can’t help it. Sometimes I just have to put things in my mouth, even if they’re still hot,” Finn answers, and dammit, now it’s _obvious_ that he’s messing with Puck. A grin briefly flashes across his face before it returns to its slightly confused default expression.

“Some people do have that problem,” Puck acknowledges. “The rest of us like to make sure we don’t scald our tongues on things like, um. Meat.” He smiles in what he hopes in angelic manner, but knowing his luck, probably isn’t.

“Ookay!” Rachel breaks in. “Let’s go ahead and get everyone’s sleeping arrangements sorted before the food arrives!”

“Party pooper,” Kurt shakes his head.

“Kurt,” Mercedes hisses furiously at him as they all follow Rachel’s directions about where to put their sleeping bags. “Maybe I was wrong, maybe it’s just your step-brother, not straight guys in general. Has he gone insane?”

“My _brother_ is as sane as he ever was,” Kurt reassures her, and if Mercedes doesn’t notice the slight edge to Kurt’s tone, it’s not like Puck’s going to tell her. He’s too busy thanking Rachel mentally for apparently obsessive need to tell everyone exactly where to sleep; that he ends up with Kurt on one side of him is definitely not a coincidence.

“So, anyone feel the need to come out this week?” Tina says, flashing a grin at Santana, who returns it with a slight shake of her head.

“I thought about it,” Finn quips, “but I was worried it would upset my girlfriend.”

“Plus, if you were gay, then we’d have too much gay in the family. I fill the quota.” He shrugs. “Just like I take part of some other people’s clothing allotment.” He grins at Finn.

Finn wrinkles up his nose and makes the dude version of a giggle. Leroy and Hiram appear at the bottom of the stairs just then, arms full of food which quickly gets passed around and then devoured. Once everyone’s eaten, Finn starts getting bossy again, and going on about how everyone needs to get ready for bed, because good sleep is key.

“Also oral hygiene,” Kurt says. “Do we need to each take a buddy to the bathroom with us?” he adds, voice back to syrupy-sweet.

“Will it get you into bed faster?” Finn asks.

“That depends on who my buddy is, doesn’t it?” Kurt fires back. “And how big this hypothetical bed is.”

“Rachel. Sleeping bag sized.”

“Then no. No offense, darling,” he adds, looking at Rachel.

“None taken,” Rachel assures him, looking as if she’s ready to burst into laughter at any moment. “Anyway, while the two of you were talking, half the girls went upstairs to use my bathroom, and the other three boys are in there.” She points to the small bathroom off the main room. “Tina, Mercedes, and I are heading upstairs now, too. We’ll be back in five!”

“Why do girls always go to the bathroom in groups?” Finn asks. “I mean, I know that’s one of those things guys are supposed to ask in movies and stuff, but in real life, it’s still just as confusing.”

“To confuse you.” Kurt shrugs. “Anyway, Mike, Sam, and Artie _also_ went to the bathroom in a group.” With that, Kurt changes into his pajamas, and Puck decides to do the same. Finn shrugs and starts swapping out his clothes for a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt.

Once everyone has finished changing and brushing their teeth, Finn says, in his sternest voice, “Fifteen more minutes and then lights out. No shenanigans.”

“Yes, Carole,” Kurt parrots, sliding into his sleeping bag. Finn sticks out his tongue and makes a raspberry noise. Kurt just smiles and rests his head on his pillow. “Can’t we cut the lights now?”

“Yes,” Puck agrees, and he stands up to cut the lights out, causing a few shrieks, before making his shuffling way back in the dark.

“Oof.”

“Sorry, K. I can’t see.”

“Give me your hand.” Puck shrugs and reaches his hand out until it makes contact with Kurt’s, who then sort of swings him to the side. “There. Sleeping bag sweet sleeping bag.”

“Someone did make us get up early this morning. On my _day off_ ,” Puck grumbles as he burrows down in his bag.

“It builds character,” Finn says. “Now go to sleep.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Puck agrees, turning so that he’s facing Kurt. The girls are still whispering, but Kurt’s got his back to them, and after a minute, Kurt’s hand finds Puck’s again, squeezing gently. “Night,” Puck whispers, barely audible. “Be good.”

“He’s always good,” Finn mumbles into his pillow. “Sleep. Go there.”

Kurt’s hand squeezes Puck again as they both laugh silently, and the darkness is so complete, that Puck moves his head a little and then lifts it just enough to kiss Kurt briefly. Before he can move back completely, Kurt’s lips move under his. “I’m always good, baby.” Puck grins and lets his head fall back onto his pillow.

 

When Puck opens his eyes again, it’s still pitch black, and he gropes for his phone, waiting for it to light up and tell him what time it is. Four-ten am. That’s a new one, even for his messed-up body clock. He rolls his neck and looks around the room, not that he can see much. He can hear the sound of steady breathing and few absent snores. He looks at Kurt then, and runs a finger gently down Kurt’s nose. Kurt’s eyelashes flutter, then still, and Puck repeats the motion, this time pressing his finger to Kurt’s lips and resting it there. Kurt’s eyes open fully then, and Puck withdraws his finger as Kurt smiles.

“What time is it?” Kurt whispers.

“Four-ten,” Puck replies, tone equally hushed. “Wanna make out?”

Kurt grins. “You woke me up so we could make out?”

“When you put it that way... well, yeah,” Puck acknowledges. “Problem?”

“Not really.” Kurt’s hand slides around to cup the back of Puck’s head and draw him close. Kurt’s lips are soft and tentative until he finds where he apparently intends to be, and then they’re demanding, Puck’s parting under the onslaught without a second thought. He brings his own arm up and settles it over Kurt’s sleeping bag, across his shoulder. Kurt shuffles closer and Puck can’t help but thrust his hips towards Kurt as their tongues sweep together. Maybe it’s not next August yet, but in a few weeks, he’ll at least get a few nights where they can do this, minus the bulking sleeping bags between them.

When Kurt slides his mouth down Puck’s jaw and onto his neck, Puck can’t help but choke out, “Hey, no marks, blue eyes.”

Kurt giggles against his throat. “Isn’t that my line?”

“You’re the one that picked a costume without ties.”

“At your request,” Kurt admits, and then his mouth is on Puck’s again, a little slower and a little sweeter.

There’s a rustling noise as Brittany sits bolt upright in her sleeping bag. Santana stirs, but then rolls to her side and settles, but Brittany scans the room like a sleepy, blond meerkat. “Oh, it’s just you,” she whispers. “You can keep playing. I’ll go back to sleep like I didn’t even see.”

“Uh.” They roll slightly apart, and Puck props himself up on one arm to get a better look at her. “Thanks?” Kurt just lies there with a small smile on his lips.

“You guys are the best at that. Me and ‘Tana weren’t very good at it. Good night.” Brittany lies back down in her sleeping back, snuggling against Santana.

“Good night, Brittany,” Kurt says softly. “Thank you.” He turns back to Puck and runs his hand down Puck’s scalp. “So the rest of my thoughts are probably a bad idea if that woke Brittany up.”

“We could go for Finn,” Puck suggests, “but I think he’s immune to us.” He takes Kurt’s hand and intertwines their fingers.

“Probably.” Kurt yawns. “See you in a few hours, baby.”

There’s a low mumble from Finn’s sleeping back that sounds suspiciously like “from the top, guys.”

Puck shakes his head and lets his eyes close. “Night, K.”

 

Puck doesn’t wake up again until Finn hisses, “Dude, hands,” in his ear.

“Wha?” Puck mumbles, burying his face into his pillow.

“Your _hands_ ,” Finn repeats, just slightly louder.

Puck frowns as he wakes up. Hands? Oh. He slowly releases Kurt’s hand with a last squeeze, then cracks an eye at Finn. “What time is it?”

“Like 6:45 or something.”

“Damn.” Puck shakes himself. He turns to Kurt and repeats his actions from just a few hours earlier. “Morning, K.”

“Already?” Kurt mumbles after a moment.

Finn starts stomping around the room, his big feet booming on the basement floor. “Up! Up everybody! Today’s the day! The sun is shining, the tank is clean, and we’re gonna kick some Warbler and Trojammer _ass_ today!”

“I still like ass,” Puck offers as he rolls onto his back and the rest of the club starts to groan.

“You _are_ an ass,” Finn says, not sounding the least bit deterred in his parade around the room. “Come on, everybody! Some of you are smelly and should go take a shower!”

“I get dibs on Berry’s bathroom. The guest bathroom had gold-star toilet paper,” Santana announces, grabbing her bag and heading for the stairs.

“I think it’s nice,” Brittany says. “It makes me feel like my butt is famous.”

“Well, you can use that bathroom if you like,” Rachel offers, stretching. “Tina, Mercedes, if you want to get dressed in my room, we can leave the boys down here.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Mercedes agrees, and they follow her upstairs, along with Quinn, who Puck guesses is waiting for a shower or something.

“Who’s excited?” Finn asks, still sort of half marching, half bouncing around the room. “Excited people should get dressed _faster_ so we can go _eat_.”

“What if we just want to eat bacon before you steal it all?” Puck asks, stripping in the middle of the room before pulling on his jeans. “Can we still get dressed fast for that?”

“Bacon,” Kurt repeats, and Puck glances over to find that Kurt’s somehow managed to get three layers on already. “Omelets. Doughnuts.”

[Kurt’s outfit: brown boots from 3x02. red shirt http://www.americanapparel.com/rsacw400.html?cid=15 and blue slouch turtleneck http://www.americanapparel.com/rsaci400.html?cid=215 and beige pant http://www.americanapparel.com/rsact400.html?cid=172 with bird brooch http://naomimurrell.bigcartel.com/product/bird-brooch-in-rock-maple]

“Hungry?” Puck asks with a grin, pulling on a fresh wifebeater and then buttoning up his shirt.

“I have been for at least a couple of hours,” Kurt responds, nodding.

“We’ve only been up for fifteen minutes or so.” Sam’s voice is muffled as he pulls on a sweatshirt.

“I was awake around four for a bit.” Kurt shrugs as if it’s of little consequence. “There was a distinct mumbling of ‘from the top,’ coming from my brother.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you’re making that up,” Finn mutters, blushing a little.

“Nope, man. I heard it too. It was a real party, even Brittany was awake.”

“I think you’re suffering from, like, sleep deprivation or something,” Finn says. “You should probably go drink some coffee before you talk any more.”

“If we’re suffering from sleep deprivation, at least we know who the cause of it is,” Kurt shrugs and zips up his bag. “You can buy us coffee in exchange.”

“Whatever,” Finn snorts.

“I think that’s a great idea. You could really improve our morale by buying _all_ of us coffee on the way back to the school,” Sam says with a grin.

“I think your morale is fine,” Finn says.

“Let’s take a vote,” Mike suggests. “All those in favor of Finn buying us coffee, raise your hand.” Five hands go up quickly. “Five to one, the ayes have it!”

“How sad for you that this isn’t a democracy,” Finn says, making a faux sad face. “I mean, if Puck says I’m a dictator and everything.”

“You know what happens to dictators? The people rise up.” Puck nods, mock-seriously.

“And while you’re up, you can get your own coffee,” Finn responds.

“Uh, guys,” Artie interjects. “How about we go up and have breakfast instead?”

“Of course,” Kurt nods. “As soon as we arrest our oppressor.” Belying his words, he walks over to Artie and, with Mike’s help, they head up the stairs.

“Hey, I hear you get three squares and yard time,” Finn says, putting out his hands. “Arrest me, dude.”

Puck just shakes his head and follows Kurt up the stairs, hearing Sam behind him. Rachel, Tina, and Mercedes are already in the kitchen, and Rachel is apparently supervising the finishing touches on her vegan crap.

“Good morning, everybody,” Leroy says from behind his huge cup of coffee (which declares “One half of the world’s best dads!”)

“Morning,” they all chorus. “Need any help?” Kurt continues, heading for the coffee pot himself.

“I think Rachel’s got it under control,” Leroy answers. “Everybody manage to keep his and or her hands to themselves?”

“No,” Kurt says, shaking his head as he pours. “I was very bad.”

Leroy chuckles almost fondly. “I’m sure you were, Kurt. I expected nothing less.”

“You’re so funny, boo,” Mercedes says, laughing. “So which of this spread was your contribution?”

“Omelets. Yours?”

“French toast sticks.”

“I asked for Rice Krispie Treats,” Brittany says. “They’re like cereal, but more fun.”

 

Puck isn’t entirely sure how they manage to get through breakfast and get everyone reloaded in the vehicles in time to actually beat Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury to the school, but they do. Finn seems very excited about getting their early, and uses the opportunity to herd everyone together into a huddle. Kurt wiggles into the middle of it, clearly using their combined body heat to supplement his many layers.

“So,” Finn begins, “here we are, ready to kick some more ass at Sectionals. Now, I know there’s some lingering, like, tension or whatever between some members of our team and some other members of certain other teams, but all I ask is that today, you all just focus on kicking their asses extra hard. Let it motivate you.”

“I won’t even have to lift my leg very high to kick his ass,” Kurt says mildly.

“That’s the kind of positive attitude I’m talking about,” Finn grins. “Thank you, Kurt!”

“Hey, guys!” Schue’s voice booms out from behind them. “Are we ready?”

“Definitely,” Finn says. “Just giving everybody a pep talk.”

“I’m really looking forward to today. Great news, by the way; last night they let the directors know our competition order. We’re going to bring the house down at the end.”

“Who’s going first?” Tina asks.

“Warblers, then the Trojammers, then us, with a fifteen-minute intermission between each set, of course.”

“I’m really interested to see what the Trojammers come up with,” Artie says. “I’ve never heard them perform. They’re pretty new, right?”

“About the same amount of time as us, I think,” Schue nods. “Now. Let’s get on the bus!”

Getting on the bus is something of a production, the three straight couples looking conflicted to varying degrees about whether or not it’s a time to sit as couple or otherwise. Kurt finally rolls his eyes and brushes past Rachel in the aisle to sit next to Finn. Puck snort and drops into the seat behind them, taking up the entire seat, and then everyone sorts themselves out, Quinn and Rachel also sitting by themselves.

Schue suggests playing a game, then attempts to lead them in Christmas carols, which falls flat. When they finally approach Columbus, Rachel turns around in her seat near the front to suggest they go ahead and begin vocal warm-ups. There’s no piano, but Puck does have his guitar, so he’s pressed into service playing notes as they warm up.

Schue goes to check them in while they wait in the lobby with their costumes and a suitcase full of what Kurt terms “necessary items.”

“Okay, guys. It’s 11:30; our blocking time is at 11:50 and our dressing room slot isn’t until 1:10. We have the warm-up room at 1:30; house opens at 1:50 and curtain goes up at 2:15. I think we should store our costumes in our green room, and everyone let me know what you want from the sandwich shop.”

“Mr. Schue, we can handle the blocking run-through,” Finn offers. “Why don’t you go get the sandwiches so that we have enough time to eat.”

Schue looks startled but nods seemingly without realizing it. “Yeah, okay, Emma and I will do that. Let’s head to the green room and I’ll get your orders.”

It’s the same green room they’ve been assigned the previous two years, and Kurt heads over to help Tina and Ms. Pillsbury shake out their costumes and arrange everything. “I want A Big Wreck,” Kurt tells Puck, “if you can write that down on Schue’s sheet for me.”

“Sure,” Puck nods, and finally gets the clipboard from Rachel, writing down his own order and Kurt’s before snorting in amusement at Rachel’s very complex directions in order to make her salad vegan. He adds “three dozen cookies” at the end of the list and hands it back to Schue with a grin.

Schue and Ms. Pillsbury disappear with a wave, and Finn leads the rest of them upon stage to run through their blocking. They’ve done this so many times that, when they’re done, Finn grins at them, and says, “I think we got this, guys.”

They head back down the hall when Puck spys a familiar blazer approaching. Trey falls into step with Puck and Kurt, on Kurt’s other side, the fussy clicking noise of his shoes reverberating annoyingly in the narrow hallway.

“Kurt, Puck, it’s such a pleasure to see you here today,” Treys says, turning up the smarm. “Your glee club is prepared for their performance today?”

“We actually did it last week in the snow,” Puck deadpans. “We just brought a video.”

“Oh?” Trey says, sounding surprised. “Oh, wait, you’re kidding.” He laughs politely. “So, what’s on _your_ set list today?”

“A nice variety, I think,” Kurt says vaguely. “We didn’t want to be stuck in a rut.”

“Well, I hope you’ll pay close attention to our set today, Kurt,” Trey says, pausing for a moment and catching Kurt by his cuff. “We have a special message we’re trying to impart.”

“I, uh. Thank you?” Kurt says, trying to tug himself free from Trey’s grip. “Break a leg.”

Trey holds on to Kurt’s cuff just a moment longer. “You as well, Kurt. But really, I hope you enjoy our set.”

“I’m sure we will,” Puck cuts in, trying to convey that yes, they are in fact dismissing Trey.

Trey sighs dramatically and nods, releasing Kurt’s sleeve and walking away towards the Warblers’ green room. Kurt rolls his eyes at Trey’s retreating back.

“That was odd,” Puck says with a snort.

“Very odd.”

 

When they finish their vocal and dance warm-ups, Schue claps his hands. “All right, guys, gather around. I think we all know that we’re ready for this, but let’s go out and give the other teams our polite attention and applause.”

Finn gives Puck a clearly pointed, but indecipherable, look from behind Schue’s back. Puck raises his eyebrows slightly and cuts his eyes to the side, because who knows what Finn is trying to say? Finn seems to take that as consent, because he nods and gives Puck a thumbs-up.

They follow Schue to the auditorium and take their seats, and with a bit of maneuvering on Rachel’s part, Puck ends up on the end, Kurt beside him with Rachel on his other side. The lights dim before too long and the announcer’s voice fills the auditorium.

“Welcome to the 2011 Western Ohio Show Choir Sectional Competition!” booms out. “Let us welcome our guest judges. Fresh from his recent resignation for NCAA compliance transgressions, former Buckeye head football coach John Tracksel!” An older man with a large bald spot stands up and waves to spotty cheers and applause. “Joining us as a guest from Illinois, former governor Robert Blogovich.” A guy with a bad toupee rises to even spottier applause with a few scattered cheers. “And finally, all the way from California, Portia de Rossi!” The applause is loud and genuine as the actress turns and waves from the front of the theatre.

“Awesome!” Santana whispers behind Puck. “Think we can get her autograph?”

“And now,” the announcer continues without missing a beat, “our first choir to compete, from Westerville, Ohio, the Dalton Academy Warblers!”

The whole auditorium claps politely as the curtain goes up and the music begins. Blaine steps out from the rest of the Warblers, seemingly looking around the auditorium before he starts to sing.

 _I miss those blue eyes  
How you kissed me at night_

Kurt’s eyes widen and he turns to look at Puck with a horrified expression on his face. “Oh my god,” he whispers.

 _But I never told you  
What I should have said  
No I never told you  
I just held it in  
And now I miss everything  
About you_

“This is kind of creepy, Hummel,” Santana says. “It’s like he’s singing right at you.”

 _I can't believe I still want you  
After all the things we've  
Been through  
I miss everything about you  
Without you_

Finn leans across Rachel to Kurt, and whispers, “Dude, that’s kind of...not cool, I think.”

Kurt nods, still looking a little ill. The song comes to an end, and Puck breathes a sigh of relief. Maybe that was what Trey was talking about, and now it’s over.

Then the next song starts, and Puck and Kurt groan in unison. “Pink.”

 _I took your words  
And I believed  
In everything  
You said to me  
Yeah huh  
That's right_

“Kurt, this is getting strange,” Rachel whispers under her breath, but Puck can still hear it. Finn leans across Rachel again, this time straining to get far enough over to speak directly to Puck.

“Ok, first, Pink? Really? And second, what the actual _fuck_ is happening up there?” Finn hisses.

Puck raises his hands and shakes his head. He doesn’t know either, but he doesn’t like it. At all. Kurt’s starting to look faintly nauseated.

 _Yeah yeah  
I'll keep you locked in my head  
Until we meet again  
Until we  
Until we meet again  
And I won't forget you my friend  
What happened  
If someone said three years from now  
You'd be long gone  
I'd stand up and punch them out  
Cause they're all wrong and  
That last kiss  
I'll cherish  
Until we meet again_

“This is just wrong,” Puck spits out as the song ends, and he can hear Santana lean forward.

“Do I need to go all Lima Heights Adjacent on his ass?” she asks over the applause.

“Yes,” Finn calls down the row. “Do it.”

“I hate to even think what he’s going to sing next,” Rachel frets.

“Katy Perry, probably,” Finn says. And that is, in fact, what starts to play. Finn’s eyes widen and he leans across Rachel once more to whisper, “Holy shit. I’m psychic.”

Nothing is immediately disturbing about the song until the Warblers reach the chorus.

 _Last Friday night  
Yeah we danced on tabletops  
And we took too many shots  
Think we kissed but I forgot_

 _Last Friday night  
Yeah we maxed our credit cards  
And got kicked out of the bar  
So we hit the boulevard_

“Wait,” Kurt whispers. “Isn’t that... didn’t you...”

“ _Yes_ ,” Puck growls. “It is.”

 _This Friday night  
Do it all again  
This Friday night  
Do it all again_

Finn leans across Rachel again, who snaps, “Do you want to switch seats, Finn?” He doesn’t answer, but instead says, “Puck, haven’t I seen that dance before?”

“If by ‘before,’ you mean when Puck, Sam, and Artie did ‘Friday’ at prom,” Santana snorts from behind them.

“Creepy,” Finn whispers, shaking his head.

“Just so you all know, I’m officially freaked the fuck out,” Kurt says, standing as the auditorium does, but not clapping.

“I’m pissed as hell,” Puck growls. “Let’s go find that tiny asswipe and _hurt him_.”

“I am completely on board with that,” Finn answers. “I hold, you punch.”

“I’m coming too,” Santana announces. “Britt-Britt, stay with Kurt. You coming, Berry?”

Rachel starts to nod, then shakes her head. “I’ll stay here.”

“We’ll be back,” Puck says quietly to Kurt. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Kurt nods.

With that, Puck, Finn, and Santana stride from the auditorium, ignoring Schue’s questions about where they are going. “So Warbler can’t stand that not only did Kurt dump him, but he found someone else?” Santana asks as they push through the doors to the backstage area. “Sloppy. And pathetic.”

“Also, creepy,” Finn says, then does a double-take. “Oh, hey, wait. You know? She _knows_?”

Puck shrugs. “Apparently.”

“Please. Brittany knows, too.”

“Well, yeah,” Puck snorts.

“Dude,” Finn breathes. “That’s almost everybody.”

“Because half is everybody,” Santana says mockingly. “Oh, look, there he is. Stalker Anderson himself.” She raises her voice as she speaks the last sentence, and Blaine turns to face them, his eyes widening a little as he sees all three of them. Trey stands next to Blaine, his hand on Blaine’s shoulder, though whether in support or in restraint, Puck can’t tell.

“What was that crap out there about?” Puck hisses. “You and your little lackey, coming to tell Kurt to oh, _please_ pay attention.”

“Wait, they said that?” Finn says to Puck. “Seriously?” He turns to Blaine. “Seriously, dude, what the hell was that?”

“I simply asked Trey to make sure Kurt was aware that our song selections were not random but carefully chosen.”

“Carefully chosen to _what_?” Finn snaps. “Be a creepy-ass stalker? ‘Cause if that was your goal, great job, creeper.”

“Of course not!” Blaine protests. “We–I–wanted Kurt to know that he was still welcome if he needed to, ah.” He gives Puck a glance before finishing. “See an option out of a bad situation.”

“The intent was to be _friendly_ and _supportive_ ,” Trey interjects. “We only meant to impart the message that--”

“That you’re creepy stalkers stalking my brother?”

“A _bad situation_? What the fuck?” Puck explodes, his hands clenching at his side.

“Yeah, what kind of bad situation?” Finn adds. “‘Cause I only see one bad situation here and that’s the pile of crap you situated up on stage.”

“You really don’t have any concerns, Finn, with this ‘relationship’ Kurt is involved in?” Blaine asks, addressing Finn only and saying the word ‘relationship’ with no little disdain.

“What? _What?!_ ” Finn sputters. “NO! I don’t have any concerns, other than why the hell you won’t leave Kurt alone. He _dumped_ you, dude. Dumped means to go away. So do that. Go. Away.”

“But Puckerman is _closeted_ ,” Blaine says, glaring at Puck. “How can you do that to Kurt?”

“Do what to Kurt?” Santana asks. “Help him survive living in this state for a few more months?” She shakes her head. “Remember what I told Karofsky, Anderson? _Razors. In. My. Hair._ ” She stops for a second. “And what is it with your obsession with coming out? I know you were behind all the shit Dave was told.”

“Look,” Trey says, physically stepping in front of Blaine. “I’m sure we can all agree that Blaine’s intentions here weren’t malicious in any way. Misunderstood, perhaps, but--”

“No, they were,” Puck cuts in. “Listen, because I think maybe all that gel in your hair is plugging your ears. Stay. Away. From Kurt. Stay away from me, while you’re at it, and Finn, and Santana, and Karofsky, and everyone you’ve ever _met_ from McKinley.”

“Exactly,” Finn adds. “And in case you need your memory refreshed later, just give Jojo a call. I’ll hook you up with his number later and he can tell you all about how you _remember the fucking rules the first time_.”

Blaine seems to realize for the first time that he’s crossed a line, and he looks at each of them before looking at Trey. “I–I should go back in the green room. We need to go watch the other groups perform.”

“Yes, I think that would be wise,” Trey murmurs, putting a protective arm around Blaine’s shoulders. He casts a scathing look back at Puck and Finn and he steers Blaine back towards the Warblers’ green room.

“I’m going to kick his ass if I ever see him again,” Puck mutters, glaring at Blaine’s back.

“I might go looking for him to kick his ass,” Santana offers. “Seriously, what is wrong with him?”

“We can take my truck when we go look for him to kick his ass together,” Finn offers. “I’ll drive and you can lean out the window and kick.”

“We could skip straight to decapitation,” Santana offers, and it’s almost cheerful.

“We should go back in,” Puck says, suddenly feeling shaky.

Finn seems to notice, because he quickly shifts gears. “Yeah, I think we should sit. I want to see these Trojammers.” He snickers. “Heh. Trojammers.”

Puck musters up a small laugh and they walk back in as the lights in the lobby flicker. Brittany vacates Puck’s seat immediately and Finn slips into the row before Puck slumps into his seat. “What happened?” Kurt asks.

Puck shrugs. “I think he’s unhinged. He started talking about bad situations and showing you support.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

Finn leans across Rachel, who swats at him ineffectually. “He’s lost it, dude. It’s _so_ good you dumped him, ‘cause I think he’s seriously just off his rocker.”

Kurt shudders a little. “Thankfully he lives far away from us.”

The lights dim at that, and the announcer’s voice booms from the speakers with a bit of a screech. “And now, from the city of Troy, the Troy High School Trojammers!”

Two girls step out from the group as the curtain rises and begin to sing.

 _We're the pleasures of the nighttime that fade at dawn,  
selling treasures of the nighttime til night is gone.  
And then when the party's over, everybody's gone away,  
we stare at an empty day - what is there to do or say?_

“Is this about hookers?” Puck asks after a moment.

“Yes,” Kurt nods. “An... unusual choice. It’s ‘The Girls of the Night’ from _Jekyll and Hyde_.”

 _Nighttime is where we live,  
night is when we give everything we have to give.  
Most lovers can rejoice, we don't have a choice,  
we just know we have to give.  
That's why the day can never be bright  
for the girls of the night._

“That’s an unusual selection,” Rachel comments.

“So, it’s a song about hookers?” Puck hears Finn ask, from the other side of Rachel.

“I think that song’s about hookers!” Brittany chirps from behind them.

The Trojammers move right into their next number with just a beat between. The music is unfamiliar to Puck, but he hears Rachel exclaim in a whisper “Oh, it’s from _Miss Saigon_!”

 _The heat is on in Saigon  
The girls are hotter 'n' hell  
One of these chicks here will be Miss Saigon_

“That’s not the right words!” Kurt frowns.

“What’s it supposed to be?”

“Slits,” Kurt says, wrinkling his nose.

“It’s another song about hookers?”

“Yes,” Kurt concedes.

 _The Cong is tight'ning the noose  
Is it a week or a day or an hour that we got?  
Tonight could be our last shot got to put it to use_

“I don’t understand,” Puck admits. “They’re doing showtunes about hookers?”

“Gotta give them points for cojones,” Santana opines behind them.

“I’m ready for the hooker songs to stop,” Kurt sighs as the song comes to a close.

Unfortunately, they aren’t spared; even Puck recognizes the opening notes of the next song. “And we have a trifecta,” he sighs.

 _Lovely ladies  
Waiting for a bite  
Waiting for the customers  
Who only come at night_

“This is awful,” Rachel’s whisper is loud. “Their singing is fine, the choreography is simple but well-executed, but these songs!”

“Are they _all_ about hookers?” Finn says, looking both intrigued and wildly uncomfortable. “I think they might all be about hookers.”

“They’s about hookers,” Brittany says, from behind them. “It’s like a world tour of hookers.”

“It’s the damn weirdest thing I’ve ever heard of a show choir doing,” Puck says frankly. “And thankfully? It’s over.”

They head towards their green room, where Kurt spends five minutes going over the girls’ hair and make-up as they mill about and Rachel attempts to lead them in one more vocal warm-up exercise.

There’s still ten minutes before they have to hit their places when Puck realizes that he’s having a hard time taking a deep breath. His heart starts hammering in his chest and everything around him, smells and sounds and sights, gets incredibly sharp. He sits down heavily, in a cold sweat, his vision starting to white out around the edges.

“Puck?” Finn says, either quietly or from very, very far away, Puck can’t tell. “You ok, man?” Finn puts his hand on Puck’s shoulder and it feels like a thousand pound weight or like it weighs nothing at all.

“Mmf?” Puck pushes past his lips. He tries to turn his head to look at Finn but can’t quite make it happen.

“No, you’re not ok,” Finn mutters. “Shit. Ok, um. Sit right there. Keep sitting there.” Finn disappears into the white edges of Puck’s line of sight. Where would he go, anyway? He doesn’t want to go anywhere. After either a very short or very long period of time, Finn reappears with Kurt. “Puck? Look, I’ve got Kurt. He’s _right here_ , ok? Can you talk to Kurt?”

Puck doesn’t answer for a moment, considering. Yeah, he probably can. He nods, and he feels the couch sink a little as Kurt sits down close beside him. He starts whispering in Puck’s ear, and Puck can’t quite gather exactly what Kurt’s saying, though there’s something about breathing with him, so he does that.

A wastebasket suddenly appears in front of Puck. It seems to be attached to Finn’s hand. “In case you need it,” Finn says, before disappearing again. It gets a lot quieter around Puck.

Kurt continues whispering, until Puck can make out entire phrases and then sentences, and he starts to feel like things aren’t so sharp. Unfortunately, that’s when the nausea hits, and he empties his stomach into the admittedly well-placed wastebasket. Kurt presses a bottle of water into his hand and he takes a long drink before leaning back against the couch.

“Okay,” he says quietly.

“Better?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” He straightens and looks at Kurt. “That was freaky.”

Kurt nods. “Drink a little more water,” he says quietly.

Puck does, then nods, mostly to himself, and stands up. “We have to get to our places?”

“We do.”

Finn quietly appears behind Kurt. “Everybody ok over here?” he asks, keeping his voice low and exaggeratedly calm.

“Yeah,” Puck answers, and he clears his throat again. “Let’s go show them how it’s really done.”

“Ok, then, Batman, Robin,” Finn says, nodding at Kurt and Puck in turn. “Let’s do this thing.”

It’s a good thing, though, that Puck doesn’t have to sing during the first number, or even be on stage, because it gives him a little more time to feel normal. Looking back, it was a little like how he felt after Johannson and Fordham had a go at him in the locker room, but that doesn’t make any sense, since he’s not been in a fight or anything physical.

Finn and Rachel take their places on stage and begin to sing as the music plays, and Puck can’t help but grin at the familiar tune as they go through the first verse and into the chorus.

 _ain't nobody gonna take away  
this thing we got goin’  
ain't no one is changing my mind  
cause i know we got it  
ain't nobody  
all i gotta do is believe in you  
and all the world becomes possiblities  
if you're willing i'll be wonderful_

They bring the song to a close and hold their positions as the last strains fade into the bridge to ‘Seasons of Love.’ The rest of them walk on stage and the spotlight comes on above Kurt.

 _525,600 minutes  
525,000 moments so dear.  
525,600 minutes  
How do you measure, measure a year?_

The other spotlights gradually rise as they each sing their line and then move into the chorus. Tina steps forward to sing her solo and then Puck takes a deep breath, steps forward, and opens his mouth.

 _In truth that she learned  
or in times that he cried  
In the bridges he burned  
or the way that she died_

He holds the last note and makes a mental record to acknowledge that all the practice? Definitely necessary, especially for a sustained note like that one. They finish the song as a group and Puck grins to himself again as the musicians play the bridge into ‘I Gotta Feeling.’ He’s definitely biased, but he’s pretty sure it sounds better than two to five measures of silence.

They all start Mike’s choreography before Sam sings the first line, and soon Puck lets himself just be caught up in the music and the dancing. Near the end of the song, though, he indulges himself, and as they sing

 _Monday, Tuesday,  
Wednesday, and Thursday  
Friday, Saturday  
Saturday to Sunday_

he can’t help but break choreography for a moment, pointing a finger at where he knows Blaine is sitting amongst the Warblers.

He sort of hopes it makes Blaine piss himself.

When the songs ends and they hold their final position as the audience leaps to their feet and cheers wildly. The curtain falls after a moment and the twelve of them fall into a messy group hug.

“That?” Finn says, grabbing each of them from the group hug into individual bear hugs. “That was serious ass-kicking! I _love_ you guys!” He gets Sam in a headlock and hugs his head, before releasing him and picking Tina up off the ground in one of his Marmaduke scruffing a kitten hugs.

Schue comes out to herd them off the stage and back into their greenroom to wait for the judges to deliberate. Rachel starts to reel off all the highlights of their performance, which basically seems to be, in her opinion, all of it. Puck’s not really going to argue. Luckily, someone came and removed the wastebasket of puke while they were performing, and Puck hears Tina whispering something about “bad meat in the sandwich,” so apparently that’s the story about what happened before they performed.

Kurt sits down beside him after a few minutes and speaks quietly, out of the corner of his mouth. “Everyone should be going home from the school. I know it’ll be late since Schue’s taking us to dinner, but we could go grab something at Pat’s.” Kurt pauses for just a second. “Maybe we can manage to wait your mom out and have an hour or two before I have to be home.”

“I like the way you think,” Puck murmurs, and then Schue returns to the room.

“Results! Let’s go!”

They pile onto the risers, stage right, with the Trojammers in the middle, thoughtfully separating New Directions from the Warblers. Given the glares that more than just Blaine and Trey are sporting, Puck can’t blame himself or Kurt for standing close to the wings.

“And now, here to present the results, Portia de Rossi!” The applause for her is, again, genuine and warm, and Puck hopes Santana doesn’t hurt herself beaming.

“Thank you. And now, your second place finisher at the 2011 Western Ohio Show Choir Sectional Competition...” She rips into the envelope. “The Trojammers!”

The Trojammers jump up and down, cheering, but also looking a little disappointed. Now the glares on the Warblers’ faces shift into smug smiles, but Puck has to admit that most of New Directions probably looks a little smug as well.

“And now, your 2011 Western Ohio Show Choir Sectional Champions, who will go to the 2012 Ohio Show Choir Regional Competition in Cleveland in March...” There’s a hushed, tense silence as she opens the envelope. “New Directions from McKinley High School!”

Rachel’s scream echoes just a split-second ahead of everyone else’s, and then they’re back in a messy group hug before splitting off into individual hugs. Familiar arms fling themselves around Puck’s neck, and Kurt whispers into Puck’s ear before releasing him. “Love you, baby.”

Puck grins as he’s turned around and finds himself with an armful of Rachel. “We did it! We did so well!”

Rachel spins off into Finn’s embrace. Finn grins at Puck across the top of Rachel’s head and says, “Good thing you’re such a fan of ass, dude. You totally kicked it tonight.”


End file.
